#i did see the post btw the tone was really fucking rough

[iexistfor1post]

I if you can't tell am not really a shipping person

Well I do ship but it isn't my focus

Anyways

I personally don't care for self sh/ip/ing

I scroll pass it and it is whatever

You do you! Amazing art

Apperantly something went down while I was at work because I came to a fandom piisssed

However my disagreement with a person came from when they said people use se/like sh/ip as a tag

No? That is a lie I have that tag blocked and I still see se/like sh/ip

Like yes defend them I may not like it personally but I do like the art

But like don't lie

Most tags I could care less about actually being tagged

Appreciated when it is done

But like I can scroll pass it normally

People forget to tag sometimes

÷÷÷

Basically I will yell till the end of time

Main tag is for everyone. Everyone

If you can please be kind and use other tags alongside it though that would be wonderful

Also just block people. That helps.

Great for the soul

[harsh-lites]

backshots here

(aka horny after stream shenanigans between damien and f!reader)

meme made by @haasmaxxing

an 18+ damien au headcanon made with all the naughty ideas my twitter chat group and i shared inspired by that one time damien said “backshot” unprompted during his recent Sunday stream 😀

i can't believe had enough spare time to do all of this 😭 enjoy, i guess

(full hc under the cut!)

“backhand blades, backshot blades. s-sorry. we can all forget that that happened”

although damien shyly told his twitch stream audience to forget whatever he said as he was picking the weapons for his elden ring character to use, he knows they’ll certainly never forget the events that transpired a little after the stream a few days prior.

after last thursday’s stream had ended, damien got to relax a bit from the interaction. this was when he would usually set down his equipment - he'd turn off the camera, give the harsh lights a break, and take down the green screen to keep for another stream.

as he unrolled the green screen, he found you waiting at the doorway to his surprise.

you asked him how he was feeling now that the stream is over. "feeling a bit fatigued," he replied, "but i'm curious to see what you've been up to!"

(gentle reminder btw that this is set in an au where damien didnt end up sick with covid post con shhhhhhh)

that's funny, you thought. "i'm glad you said that, because i do have a proposition."

"okay... i'm all ears."

"there's not a lot to do on a sunday, right?"

"this sunday? no, not really. why"

"i've been thinking about having some of the free time today to ourselves."

eventually, damien detected hints of teasing and playfulness in your tone. "yeah, sounds like a great idea." a smirk forms across his lips, and that lit up the flame inside you.

that flame in you somehow increased in intensity as he leaned to touch the bare skin that hasnt been covered by your oversized shirt - you have yet to tell him that you weren't wearing anything else underneath.

"so, what's your plan?" he whisperes into your ear

"we could start here, perhaps," you answered. the tension between you and damien is so sharp, it could cut a big block of paper clean.

"my streaming room?" damien chuckled lightly. "well, if we were to start here, i can lend you my gamer chair."

"sounds like a great plan to me."

you two got closer and closer, until his lips reach yours. gentle kisses turn into passionate open-mouth clashes, and the rest is history.

that's where you both ended up - hot, steamy sex in the place where your boyfriend freely interacts with much of the outside world.

the thought of you getting railed in damien's stream room was that of pure naughtiness. although it wouldn't fly in reality, you got more turned on by the potential that anyone out there could be hearing the whimpers of profanities, titles, and damien's name, as a way to show them that you're his and his alone. and you were certain as hell that he's sharing the same sentiment.

but, little did you two know that his stream hasn't actually, fully turned off yet. YIKES.

luckily, the camera was already off by then, but somehow, unbeknownst to his twitch moderators, an error unknowingly happened while they were trying to close. it caused the audio to still be on - and, consequently, the chat feature.

in other words, while you and damien were moaning and panting through each rough fuck, some of the audience that hadn’t left yet were bewildered by what they were hearing in real time.

others even left comments as his chat was also on! the reactions range from “ayo 💀💀💀” to “WHATS WITH ALL THE MOANING”

damien, however, seems to not give a care, even as the chat (and eventually his discord) was blowing up. his focus here and now was you and the way you wrapped so tight and nicely on his cock.

he enjoyed in particular how you were taking his sharp yet languid thrusts so well - you got your legs spread and your back pressed well into the chair, greedy cunt welcoming him and begging to be fucked until you couldn't take it.

he’s holding on to the chair for dear life as he pounds into you, but the more rough the fucks get, the more difficult it was to keep you still.

despite the obstacle, you were enjoying the feel of him so much that you wouldn’t mind anything that may come in your way. you’ve craved for his cock for long now, and you were glad now that the craving came true.

damien was floored by the euphoric look of your face, no matter how rough his poundings could get. that's just one of many reasons why he loves you.

midway, he asked how you were feeling so far. your response: “i’ve never felt so much better; fuck you feel so fucking good; need you like this until i cum, until you cum” - basically a litany of praises out your mouth that have a twinge of horny.

meanwhile over at the chat, the audience was practically in shambles after what they heard from you. one of the mods took wind of what was happening at the moment, so in panic they immediately reached out to their fellow mods to help fix this whole issue.

on the chair, damien leaned you in on a kiss, which quickly evolved into sloppy frenching, teeth clashing, tongues dancing and open mouths slotting into each other.

as he pulled from such an intense kiss, he saw that the position both of you were in was making the chair pull a bit further from where you originally were.

he suggested another position where both of you can stay still even with all the intense movement. as agreed upon, you come down and lie your head on the seat cushion while your ass is up. he followed by kneeling behind you shortly thereafter.

he teased your now wet entrance with his cock, swollen head sliding up along your folds and to your throbbing clit, which gets sensitive everytime the tip touches it.

you illicit a whiny moan, and from there you were begging him to play with your pussy, even while he’s buried deep inside.

damien obliged, setting out to do exactly what you were hoping for. his dick fits into you like a glove, and one of his hands snakes its way into your clit and folds.

you instantly fold the moment you feel the pads of his fingers, every touch making you melt like putty.

as you two were enjoying the new position, the mods were frenzied in trying to mute damien's mic feed, but ran through a deluge of errors! ultimately, they had no choice but to wait for him until whatever freak shit he was doing was over and done.

your hands hold tight onto the sides of the chair as his cock drags so swiftly within your walls, hitting the most sensitive spots that are guaranteed to make you cum faster.

the noises coming from both your mouths get increasingly louder upon each thrust, and it would reach the loudest the moment you feel like cumming onto his cock - fuck if the chat cares, anyway.

when you do cum, you feel your walls tighten, and that’s enough for damien to lose control and reach his tipping point.

keeping up with the momentum, he haphazardly pulls out of you and fists his now throbbing cock until dribblets of his cum spurt out from the tip to your ass and back.

the position you were in may not look as ideal, but God, the backshot imagery here looked as astounding as ever.

the drippings have even reached within your ass cheeks - the view of your rim like this is in and of itself a much naughtier sight.

as you both wind down from the high, damien stood up to his stream deck to a shocking revelation.

a barrage of concerned chatters and clever coop members reacted to all the strange, unhinged noises coming from his mic during the stream, which he thought should have ended already almost 30 minutes ago.

he was also sent a stern warning note from his mod group, stating that they ran into a lot of errors in trying to mute his mic, but it was ultimately up to him to turn it off... at this rate, he definitely had a lot to explain. whoops!

glitches aside, he was too light headed to deal with all of this. he went to turn the mic and chat feed off. then, he turned to ask ask if you were up for another go - "but in the bedroom, please i can't deal with so much embarrassment - it's k!lling me!"

without a doubt you said yes, and with his sheer strength he lifted you there. in damien's point of view, sex in a private bedroom is a million times much safer and less prone to unwanted visitors.

the fun certainly didnt stop as soon as you reach the bedroom, though. now with all thr pressure of the concerned clever coop out of his way, damien now got to have you all by himself - he eats you out while you savor the feeling of his thick fingers thrusting in and out of you.

at least here, he’s satisfied that the loud, incriminating moans you made are contained within these four walls. fuck if the chat cares! it’s just him and you against the world.

------------------------------------------------------

it’s been a while since the incident during his last stream. with the help of his mods, damien has become strict on banning anyone within the clever coop or outside who may clip the moment.

he also collaborated with the mods to edit all of the leaked audio out - that way, he hopes, nobody can see let alone hear how you and damien have been to each other.

even while he tries his damndest to erase any evidence of his one big oopsie, he sure knows he’s getting teased by everyone who’s aware of the incident - his friends included.

(one of his friends, who works in the sex industry, suggested he try out recording audio porn or set up an onlyfans page filled with audio porn content)

(damien kindly declines, but given the curious buzz that incident had created, plus the profit that comes with nsfw content in general, he thought it wouldn’t be much of a bad idea after all)

[iamamythologicalcreature]

Six Sentence Sunday/Creative Proof of Life

Thanks for the tags, @alexalexinii, @shrekgogurt, and @that-disabled-princess!

This WIP post is basically a proof of life statement. I can't believe it's been over a month since I posted Chapter 1 of the Haunting of Simon Snow. I'm so overdue for chapter 2, BUT... instead I finished writing the rough draft. I've been attempting to outline, because when I rough a draft, I really rough it up. Ahem.

So I have been working on it, even if there is zero evidence on AO3 as of yet.

How about some sentences? I haven't sliced up chapters yet, so not sure if this is from chapter two or three, but here's a snippet of Simon on the phone with Penny expressing some smooshy sentiments:

I curl up on the couch a bit more, maneuvering myself so my wings aren’t crushed. “I went flying last night,” I confess then, in quiet tones. Like someone might hear me. “You— Oh, but… You can’t! What if someone sees you?” I can actually hear her biting her lip. She wants to spell my problems away, and she can’t. “But I can,” I say, smiling a bit more. “There’s no one around for acres. No one will even willingly drive here on account of the house being haunted. It’s empty. And I’m flying at night.” I say flying in the present tense and realize I fully intend to fly again tonight.

Penny huffs. Her specialty. “I don’t like it.” “I do,” I say easily, warming up to explaining, hoping she’ll understand. “It’s so freeing, Pen. Like the weight of the world can’t hold me down, anymore. I feel… It’s like… It’s like I’m closer to the stars. Like I’m close to stirring up the milky way.” I let out a sigh, my eyes closing as I drop my head back, indulging in that recent memory. “I don’t hate it as much, when I’m up there. You know?” There’s a few seconds of silence, and I open my eyes again. “Pen?” “Hate what?” she asks quietly.

(just in case you were worried I wouldn't be including angst...)

Bit more info on my progress (maybe some whinging) and tags and hellos below the cut!

Fun facts about my ineffecient writing process:

I spent more than one or two hours clearing asterisks from my rough draft this morning. (Because discord has trained me to do *this* when I write instead of this.) Because I'm trying to listen to my draft via screen readers, but it keeps sounding like "asterisk-impossible-star-fuck me" (that's my favorite one honestly, it's supposed to read "Impossible. Fuck me.") which is really annoying (more often than amusing). ANYWAY… what this has revealed to me is that I use "Fuck" a lot, as well as "So good." Ahem. Take from that what you will.

BTW, I'm sure there's an easier way to do that than manually. Please don't tell me for at least a few days, or I might lose it. I am but a mortal being, with a tattered heart and patience worn thin. (Or something.)

OKAY. It's been awhile since I did one of these posts. Time really flies. Gonna give this list my best shot, but as always, open to any who want to participate! (Also adding some new names in for the new year so this is sort of my "Gee I hope this is cool with you" super long tag list. If you'd rather not be tagged, just drop me a missive to that effect!)

@leithillustration @prettygoododds @rimeswithpurple @artsyunderstudy @blackberrysummerblog @hushed-chorus @nightimedreamersworld @best--dress @whatevertheweather @ileadacharmedlife @scribble-tier @imagineacoolusername @brilla-brilla-estrellita @alleycat0306 @angelsfalling16 @fatalfangirl @erzbethluna @tender-ministrations @anxious-m3ss @ebbpettier @bubble-gumhead @facewithoutheart @bazzybelle @theimpossibledemon @aristocratic-otter @mooncello @cutestkilla @annabellelux @ic3-que3n @j-nipper-95 @letraspal @messofthejess @onepintobean @palimpsessed @raenestee @supercutedinosaurs @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @wellbelesbian @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @youarenevertooold @bookish-bogwitch @martsonmars @orange-peony @mostlymaudlin @stardustasincocaine @confused-bi-queer

Lastly, quick note/question. Tumblr seems to be remiss in informing me when I've been tagged in other posts. Is this a common issue?

[vampelune]

kamukomahina gender/body headcanons

a bit of a ramble about my body, gender, and general appearance headcanons for them bcuz someone sent me a curiouscat prompting this 3k words of hyperfixation nonsense

Komaeda:

- He has a naturally lithe body, with a thin waist, broad shoulders and hips, which give him an hourglass. and a rather andrognyous body, which is "lucky" for him, because I hc him as nonbinary and gender non-conforming

- Gender-wise, as I said, I think he's nonbinary. Usually I do view Nagito as AMAB but I indulge in transmasc Nagito from time to time depending on my preference and how much I wish to uh, well, project, lol. But either way I think he would use he/they pronouns in a western sense. In japanese, however, they don't use third person pronouns that other people refer to them with, and in canon he uses the first person pronoun "boku", which is a "soft" masculine pronoun, in comparison to the "hard" masculine pronoun, “ore” (which Hajime uses btw!) which fits quite nicely, in my opinion! Also, in Japanese, you can be 'fluid' with your first person pronouns depending on the situation, so I think he could use more neutral or feminine pronouns should he desire it, too, to play on his gender non-conformity.

- Komaeda is very secure in his gender, regardless of being AMAB or AFAB. He does not care about stigma, or discrimination, he does not care about being "accepted" by broader society. Broader society is sort of meaningless to him, the average person and their ideas about gender and presentation and effeminity mean NOTHING to him. Whether or not a random person the street genders him correctly or treats him with respect is sort of, pointless? Because to him, most ordinary people are pointless nobodies. Their thoughts do not matter to him. I think he is still prone to insecurity, however, when around his "betters" but I just struggle to think he would degrade himself in regards to gender. to him, it's the least of his problems. what he cares about is hope and talent. He could dress femininely or wear makeup or straight up crossdress and not mind it, really. He thinks people would find a problem with it are the problem, because why does it even matter? It speaks to the way Komaeda is detached from societal norms & "normal" people, he did not grow up in normal circumstances, so he doesn't interact with the world normally by any means. he can mask and act normally to the best of his ability, often unintentionally?, but he simply does not fit into broader society and doesn't seek to.

- Komaeda loses weight really easily, and doesn't gain weight that well. This is mainly due to his many illnesses but also the medications he's been put on. He has a low appetite and burns weight rather easily, even though I headcanon that he eats like garbage (mainly junk food & takeout, since he obviously cannot cook). This makes him overall, health wise, not very healthy, and stick thin because of it. A stiff breeze could knock him over, tbh.

- He has a lot of faded scars, self-inflicted or not.

- Pre-despair (in HPA) he is fairly healthy but still lithe, and progressively his body deteriorates through his 2 years of hopes peak before the Tragedy begins.

- During the Tragedy itself, his body is at it's worst. he is almost nothing but bone at times, barely kept together by a need to live so he can see hope triumph. His weight fluctuates but he's very unhealthy. He's not anorexic or on death's door, but he's not well off, either.

- After being put into the neo world program, right after waking up, he's very, very thin and gaunt. he was in a pod on feeding tubs for an indiscernible but at least probably a month's worth of time? So he's just very weak, like he could collapse if he moves too quickly.

- But a while after waking, he goes into remission, and starts to gain more healthy habits due to being rehabilitated and cared for by Hinata, and gains some weight, finally at a healthy, normal weight. I still think he would struggle with putting on too much weight, but I am slightly fond of the idea that he gets a bit of healthy pudge after a while. To him, it's so foreign being healthy, that he honestly think something's wrong with him at first.

Hinata:

- Hinata has a very... average body, true to form. His hips and waist aren't too pronounced but he has a loosely "hourglass" shape, too, just not as exaggerated as Komaeda's in comparison.

- Gender-wise, I am EXTREMELY fond of transmasc Hinata. While I think I portray AMAB Hinata more than transmasc Hinata (in art and writing), I still firmly prefer transmasc Hinata. The reason I think portray otherwise more is just out of comfortability, but I've been getting better at comfortably portraying FTM Hinata. I have some reasons I prefer it and think you can extrapolate it from canon, but let's get into that

- Hinata, in my eyes, has an arc and story that fits perfectly into him just. Being trans. His desire to be someone else, someone better, someone he can proud of, and the way he overcompensates for himself and has an extreme inferiority complex would easily lend to him having similar feelings about his gender. To me, Hinata is a trans man who overperforms his masculinity out of insecurity and a need to pass. I see him as someone who would strictly use "he/him" in a western sense, which is lended to by his use of the "ore" pronoun in canon, which is almost hypermasculine.

- Even if he were AMAB, I think it still works, I think he's still someone who's insecure and tries to assert himself more strongly and therefore performs masculinity in a way to appear more confident than he is.

(side note: I actually read a bit about queerness in Japan and how it relates to gender performance and the use of pronouns, and read a bit about how queer women in japan tend to use "boku" and "ore" to perform masculinity, which I find neat. “Ore” was also sometimes used exclusively to show anger and dominance, which is why it's categorized as a "rough" pronoun. I think Japanese language, gender, and expression, and how those all relate to one another, are extremely interesting and if you get the time you should read about it lol)

- Body-wise, pre-despair, I think Hinata would. not have top surgery, obviously. I think he has a fairly average but leaning a little on the hefty side chest (pre-op) and binds it, hence the '91 cm' (but also he still has 91 cm post-op because bazongas). I also just think he leans on the "twunk" side of things at this point, not buff but not stick thin or without muscle, just kind of average with average strength and all, though I think Hinata would've tried to do sports and stuff to find his talent so he's in shape :)

- My personal, kind of amusing, but also kind of... thematical? Headcanon, is that during the Kamukura project, he also underwent gender transition. to be honest, while it may not make sense in modern Japan, I think we can suspend our disbelief for fiction, and also make the argument that Hinata's "transition" into Kamukura CAN be read, in some part, as relatable or at least familiar to the trans experience. Iit is not out of the realm of possibility, either, to assume that because many bits of society in Danganronpa are advanced (specifically science, is extremely ahead of our understanding, almost sci-fi like at times) certain attitudes about gender and sexuality can be smoothed over more in a Japanese context.

(side note: I also think that science-wise, we can suspend our disbelief, and assume that top surgery and bottom surgery are much more advanced in this universe, given the almost unbelievable levels of science in Danganronpa, such as memory wipe, mind control, completely realistic virtual simulation, um literally everything about Kamukura which is body modification and brain modification to an extreme, etc. I think it's kind of fitting within these to assume that... Hinata/Kamukura could just, gain a functioning penis, lol)

Kamukura:

- Kamukura would have a. "Perfect" body. it's stated, I'm pretty sure, that they modified not only his brain but his body, because he needs to be able to perform every talent under their belt with ease, and his strength, instincts, technique, are all superhuman. So it's clear to me he'd have a buff body. toned muscles and all. He wouldn't really feel a need to keep it up, though, but I think since they're very... artificial (basically fucking steroids?) they wouldn't fade from a lack of keep-up.

- Kamukura also rarely ever is injured, but when he does, his body heals rather fast and can care for himself adequately, because again, his body is modified to a point of almost inhumanity.

- Gender wise, Kamukura genuinely does not care. however, I am not one to think that Kamukura is "a different person" from Hinata, rather, he is separate from Hinata, but an extension of Hinata as well, proven that he experiences some of his emotions even if subconsciously and without understanding them. he isn't a different personality or person developed in Hinata's body, but a very traumatizing, repressed, and manipulated version of Hinata given a new name, with memories repressed. He's like Theseus's ship in human form---if you get rid of everything that makes someone themselves and replace it, bit by bit, is it the same person? Technically, yes, but... truly? Who knows. 

Because of this, I think Kamukura would have a leaning toward masculine gender performance (in canon, in fact, he uses the soft masculine pronoun "boku" in stead of "ore" like Hinata) BUT I think he is still very nonbinary. In a western sense, i think he would use he/they pronouns, but not really care if someone mistook him for a woman, I suppose.

- His appearance, unironically, is very nonbinary or "he/they" to me because he's wearing a suit, the archetypal form of masculinity, but has extremely long hair, which is considered feminine, and speaks softly (dully). Of course, the bishounen "pretty boy" appearance isn't uncommon or considered less masculine in japan, I think, but there is still a different between soft masculinity and rough masculinity in japan, which lends itself to being interpreted sort of gender non-conforming by western audiences :)

- Kamukura, due to his apathy, struggles with self-maintaining, but as we all probably know i am extremely attached to KamuKoma and thus headcanon that Servant helps him, sort of like a royal servant would royalty in the old days, take care of himself by bathing him, brushing his hair out, grooming him, etc. partially out of duty, partially out of appreciation for Kamukura's body, and partially out of maintaining his sort of "perfect" look since Kamukura, especially post-Junko death, is perceived widely by the public as the new leader of the ultimate despair, even if he is ambivalent to such a title.

Post-DR3 Hinata/Kamukura combined:

As I rambled on about previously, I don't think that Kamukura and Hinata are separate people or personality, I really dislike the interpretation that they are like a "split personality" or operate like DID, because they do not "form" like DID, but also in canon, are not portrayed as separate people.

In post-dr3, Hinata instead says that he is both of them, because he is. Kamukura is Hinata, always was, but had been given a new, false identity, had been stripped of his previous self, his memories, his personality, and crafted into something new. but that did not "split" his brain into two people. It simply repressed who he once was, and made him someone he now was. But when Kamukura regains his memories, his past self, through the means of the new world program by restoring his own memories after SDR2 concludes and he wakes up, as well as doing the same for everyone else, he decides to be "Hajime Hinata" who he always was, but carrying and shouldering the weight of what "Izuru Kamukura" had been, become, and done. Hinata *is* Kamukura, he answers for Kamukura's wrongdoings, his crimes, as something he had done as a different person who's mind operated differently, due to being artificially suppressed, modified, into an apathetic tool for the scientists who made him, and later and aimless, bored individual who simply sought meaning he did not have in the unknown of what despair would be at it's climax. And if hope could overcome it.

As such, I think, when Hinata's self is brought back into the mix, and he now deals with Kamukura's apathy and boredom in part, but much less consuming and much less often, I think hinata is less staunchly "masculine", does not overperform it anymore, and is trying to understand what his past means to him, what his present is, and what his future will be. I think that Hinata would still primarily use he/him (or still use "ore" in Japanese, as it's also a means of his personality, which is a bit rough around the edges and blunt), but be more ambivalent to rigid gender expression, still finding comfort and idealness in masculinity, but not be made dysphoric or feel frightened, uncomfortable, with non-comformity or anything like that. being boyish, masculine, is what he enjoys, but he's comfortable in it now, doesn't need to prove himself or overperform it. He can explore nonconformity without feeling like his gender or masculinity is at threat, even if it's not his preference outright.

Body-wise, I think it's safe to say he retains Kamukura's muscle and all, but Kamukura didn't put much effort into the everyday machinations of being a human being in general, and Hinata is much more fond of food than him now, eats more often, and I enjoy the idea that he gains a little pudge and has a kind of "dad bod" almost, post-DR3? lol.

Both for Hinata and Kamukura I don't see their bodies as “bara” or overly buff, masculine, but a kind of comfortable middle ground between twunk and hunk, lmao. I think they're also averagely hairy, not overly so, very lightly. kind of well groomed, and all. Hinata, pre-despair, put not so much effort into his appearance but still some, especially in trying to pass. (In fact I think his hair cut looks like a home job, all choppy and stuff, which fits him in my opinion, something done by his own hands even if messy and imperfect, he still prefers to be in control of it. also fits the trans headcanon tehe).

Izuru put very little if any effort into himself, only the bare minimum necessary to function, but servant helped him upkeep it to a perfect standard. Hinata, post-dr3 now, finds himself putting you know, an average amount of care into himself and his body, enough to be healthy, but not overly critical and conscious of himself.

Komaeda i have always seen as someone who takes a good deal of care about himself, merely if to alleviate the "disgust" of his appearance and body, by practically preening himself. He is someone who is good at cleaning and seems to appreciate clean and well kept spaces, so I think he would have a similar attitude toward himself. even if he is insecure, and of course, struggles with mental health and may slip at times in his routine in keeping himself well-kept, I think he still maintains an appearance for the most part, at least in his later years (teen to young adult). An argument can be made that he cared less in his adolescence because he had much more apathy about the world, but when he gave himself a purpose with hope and talent, I think he would care for himself a little better, even if his was spiralling mentally.

His hair is always washed, it is just very curly and prone to mess, so it often looks like perpetual bedhead, even when he combs and brushes it. His skin is soft even if a little worn by his tendency for accidents & injury, it's still soft and almost luckily so, and he takes pride in moisturizing and cleaning himself. His skin is a little sickly, still, and I think that despite having blemishes, scars, etc. Komaeda manages to look pretty in a strange way, not conventionally beautiful, but almost ethereal? He's just *pretty*, there's no way to explain it, he is nice to look at even with all his "flaws" and imperfections. Even when he's sickly and bony, even when his cheeks are gaunt or his hands shaky and weak, when his hair is a tangled mess or his clothes are dirty, he's nice to look at in a way that's nonconventional, and it's sort of mesmerizing.

Hinata I think is very average but also in a way that's nice to look at it. He's not ground-breaking hot or conventionally attractive, he has a good body, a nice face, and hair you could play with a little if you wanted. I think what's appealing about him is his normalcy, he's not trying too hard or "gifted" gene wise, but he's just kinda nice to look at, he's enjoyable to be around, an understanding person, or at least tries to be even when he fails, and despite having flaws, insecurities, blunt, he is someone you're drawn to because he's one of those people that's just, easy to talk to? An emotional anchor, almost. The kind of guy everyone kind of knows and has talked to at least once, even if you're not friends with him personally, not because he's cool or popular or anything, but because he's a normal dude who's easy to trust and talk to.

Kamukura, on the other hand, is intimidating, appearance wise and personality wise. he looks, strange, anything but normal, his eyes are red and his hair is this dark cloud that envelops him. His face may still be that plain one Hinata has but faces can be changed by the surrounding attributes as well as expression and such is true for him, with his apathetic and cold expression as well as otherwordly characteristics, he comes off as much more beautiful in a dark way, kind of? In a way that's intimidating or a little daunting, but he's still very beautiful. mesmerizing.

okay, thats my ramble. ty.

[myjjbaby]

Can I get a jj imagine where you've been dating for a while (you're a pogue and been one forever) and you make a bet with him to see who can go the longest without sex? Who would cave first bc i feel like even being as stubborn as he is JJ wouldn't be able to take it that long lol smut is 100% okay with me if you're comfortable btw😜 ~N

won’t last | the bet (part ii)

author’s note - hi alright this is a tad different than the request bc i thought itd be cute to have a different bet for part 2 of the bet bc people wanted that :))

synopsis - requested by anon! you make a bet with your boyfriend and JJ’s really bad at winning them

warnings - 2.6k of smut, filth, sex, whatever you want to call it :)) edging, oral (f!receiving), unprotected (wrap before you tap folks). also if you aren’t legal i highly suggest you don’t read this and enjoy some time outside like children should. 18+ folks!! also i am allowed to post this cause i am 19 so anons don’t even try :))

“Wait, so you’re trying to tell me that y’all made a bet about me and JJ?”

You were currently sitting between your boyfriend’s legs at the driver seat of the ‘HMS POGUE,’ which had become a common occurrence over the summer ever since Sarah introduced you to the crew. JJ’s hand would slip off of the wheel and knead at the skin of your waist, a playful smirk on his face as he looked out onto the marsh.

“Yeah, if JJ didn’t fall in love with you by the end of the summer, he’d get a new bike.”

“I don’t need a new bike anyway.”

You smiled at the blonde’s confession and leaned up to kiss the underside of his jaw. He shifted his head so he could look down at you fully before pressing his lips sloppily against your cheek.

“M’ sorry, bub,” he gave you a confused look, “about not getting a bike.”

“Don’t need one if I got you, baby.”

You rolled your eyes before slipping out of his arms and meandering to the bow of the old boat. JJ whining at the loss of contact, watching your figure bend over as you grabbed something out of his bag.

“So,” the blonde nearly jumped out of his skin when Sarah snuck up on him, “wanna do another bet?”

“What do you have in mind, Cameron?”

“We need Y/N for this one, gimme a sec.”

JJ watched as the older girl walked over to you, pulling his fresh blunt from your lips. He smiled as you approached him and once again wrapped you into his warm embrace. The blue-eyed boy smiling when he felt your lips pressed to his exposed shoulder. JJ chuckled at your squeal when he placed you on his lap, kissing your temple whispering sweet nothings.

You blushed like crazy once you noticed all of the Pogues standing around you, hiding further in JJ’s neck.

“You ready for this, Maybank?”

“Born ready.”

You raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at your boyfriend, questioning his antics which he just ignored and kissed your cheek again.

“I wanna see how long JJ can go without sex.”

“You mean like-”

“Any interaction, JJ.”

You giggled as he let out a groan into your neck.

“This is torture.”

“And,” Sarah smirked, “if you surpass a week, I’ll get you that bike.”

Smiling at the cute boy sitting beneath you, you slid off his lap and headed back towards the bow of the boat. JJ frowned as you stepped farther away from him, telling Pope to take the wheel, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to his bare tanned chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Mm,” you hummed into his warm chest, goosebumps shooting up his back, “don’t wanna tempt you.”

“You always do, baby.”

His arms wrapped around your neck as you found the small of his waist. Blocking out the sun with his biceps, you looked up at his soft features without having to squint, appreciating the little sun spots littered across his face.

“Gotta last a week, then you can have me and your new bike.”

“Jus’ want you, baby, only you.”

“Yeah, okay. Tell that to your bike magazines under the bed.”

“Shut up.”

You giggled at his reddened cheeks and went up onto your tiptoes, sweetly kissing his chin. You sent him one last smile that left him breathless and sat down next to Sarah, who was cheekily grinning at JJ’s fluster.

Seven days. Your boyfriend was sure he could last that long. Seven day, a week. That’s nothing, right?

He was three days in when everything fell apart. You were sitting on his lap while the Pogues were gathered on the porch of John B’s infamous chateau. JJ’s rough fingertips slipped under your shirt and started stroking up and down your sides. Feeling his needy movements, you were quick to catch his hands in your grip.

“Baby��”

“J, no.”

“I wanna feel you.”

“Four days left.”

You felt his soft waves of hair brush against your back as his head rested between your shoulder blades. He grumbles incoherently into the fabric of your top, hands slipping out of your own.

You thought he was going to behave until his warm palms pulled out of your shirt and resettled on your thighs. JJ’s thumb prodded at the fading marks on the inside of your left leg, the purple marks left by his lips days ago still sensitive as they healed. You halfheartedly grabbed his wrists a second time when you felt waves of pleasure shoot straight through your body.

“J.”

“Let me make you feel good.”

“Sure thing,” you felt him grin into your skin, “in four days.”

His smile slipped down into a pout, hands continuing their teasing movements against your skin. You bit at your lower lip as a soft whimper nearly escaped your throat.

“You’re such a tease, baby, have been all week.”

“It’s been three days, JJ.”

You felt his body shift against you as he planted wet kisses up your spine, nipping lightly at your flushed skin. You attempt to suppress the gasp on the tip of your tongue as he continued to travel around your exposed skin.

Your hands loosened from around his wrists, instead pulling at the loose curls at the base of his head. JJ let out a soft growl as you grounded your hips down onto his lap, his arms tightening around your waist to keep you still.

The blonde’s lips found your skin again, lapping at the tortured skin of your neck as you whimpered lightly. You had never been more grateful that the Pogues had dispersed, then at this moment with his flaming touch pulling moans from your body, his name sounding like a prayer from your lips.

“Fuck, JJ.”

He groaned into your skin as you pressed harder against him, both of you growing needier by the second. Everything about his movements made you eager and he knew just how lust driven he was making you feel.

“Y/N? Can you come help me with something?”

And just like that you pulled yourself out of his arms, his hands desperately gripping at your waist, trying to get some kind of relief

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

JJ groaned at your word choice making you giggle, you weren’t used to your boyfriend being so clingy.

“Come with me, J?”

“So funny, Y/N, really.”

“You did this to yourself.”

“M ‘sorry, I just want you.”

“Four days.”

Just like that you were strolling off the screen porch, fixing your shirt which had rolled up significantly by JJ’s hands. You left him a whimpering mess as he stared down at the tent in his swim shorts, twitching from the quick loss of friction. He felt like he could cry from being edged so well only to be stuck in a daze and really, really turned on.

It was two days later when he was pressed up against your backside, so hard it was starting to hurt.

“Babe?”

JJ groaned, hearing you feign an innocent tone when you both know you can feel his hard-on pressed against your butt. You smiled at the soft noises he makes as you pull away, grabbing his hand to pull him towards the hammocks closer to the shore. He follows you like an addict, absolutely fucked for you when you press a soft kiss to his cheek before pushing him to sit on the hammock.

“Baby, please.”

“It’s Thursday, two more days and I’m all yours.”

“Fuck, I need you so bad.”

“I know,” you smile at him, pressing your lips to his nose as you straddle him, “I know. Smoke with me? It’ll make you relax, yeah?”

JJ nodded as you placed the paper between his lips. You leaned over him, your bikini covered chest brushing against his reddened skin. Smiling as he grabbed one of your nipples through the fabric, you lit the spliff with the silver lighter engraved with ‘JJ’ and watched him inhale deeply. You admired how his cheekbones became more defined as he sucked in the smoke.

You watched as the harsh furrow in his brow settled as the drug rushed in and out of his body, pressing a kiss to the relaxed skin and noting the unfaltered bulge pressed against your ripped jean shorts. JJ ruts his hips up to meet your warmth, desperate to be touched and finally release the growing tension in his body.

Pulling away slightly, you take the lit joint between your finger and slip the object into your mouth. The blonde boy watched as your pretty lips wrapped around it like second nature and his mind wandered to you finally being wrapped around him. He moaned into your mouth when you kissed him softly, roughly sucking against your bottom lip as you blew the puff of smoke out of your lungs and into him.

“Fuck, that was really hot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby, look so pretty.”

You flush under his heated gaze and rewarded his compliments with kisses across his skin. Your mind went blank as JJ slid his warm palms down the length of your body, squeezing your knees before brushing along the tops of your thighs and stopping at your belt loops.

“J.”

Your voice was breathy against his throat as he grinded against your core, turned on by your sultry tone. You forgot about your sister’s stupid bet as soon as JJ’s long fingers dipped into your shorts and started playing with your pantyline. His hands slip out making you whimper against him, his grip relocating to your hips.

“I know, baby,” his thigh came up between yours, flipping you over and making the hammock swing, “fuck, I didn’t think about that.”

You threw your head back giggling and JJ stopped to admire you for a moment before he was reminded of the pain shooting through him for being so turned on. His mouth finds your sweet spot below your jaw in no time, so familiar with the nooks and crannies of your skin. He sucked against the warm skin before continuing his assault down your body while his hands played with the strings of your bikini.

You desperately try to hold back your noises, knowing the Pogues would hear you, even if you knew JJ wouldn’t mind losing the bet if he was busy focusing on you. You feel his familiar smirk against your collarbone as your top slips from your chest, his hands sliding to the underside of your breasts as he encircles your nipple in his mouth. He leaves matching bruises to the ones on your neck and the faded ones lining your thighs, your body feels like it’s on fire like the blunt between your fingers.

“JJ.”

Your boyfriend hums against your bare waist, sending shocks of pleasure straight between your legs.

“Your new bike, JJ.”

You remind him why he should stop, begging in your mind that he’ll keep his lips close to you.

“Don’t need it.”

“J.”

“Baby, I don’t care.”

And like that, he slips your shorts and bikini bottoms off in one pull, his lips following behind and trailing kisses down your legs. You stamp out the spliff quickly, roughly gripping his blonde waves instead. JJ groans as you buck your body up to get closer to his hot breath that’s breathing over you. You nearly cry out as you feel him lick directly on your bundle of nerves, lips pressed against your mounds as he suckles on your clit.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

He smiles watching you clamp around nothing when he pulls back, he starts to tongue at your weeping entrance, smiling as a wave of your sweetness slips out onto his chin with your first orgasm leaving you gasping for air.

“So wet, pretty girl.”

“God, J.”

You grip at his curls as he pushes you again until you can barely take anymore against your sensitive bud. JJ growls against your pink skin when you tug at his hair, pulling you up to meet his lips in a scorching kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue and feel the wetness on his chin, his thumbs circling movement nearly making you cum.

“J.”

“What baby? Tell me what you want.”

“Need you.”

He pushes two fingers into you hard and you bite his lips to hold back your scream of pleasure.

“Need me how, baby? Gotta tell me.”

“I need your cock, J, need you to fuck me.”

“Good girl.”

JJ’s swim trunks drop to the ground as soon as he kicks them off, the hammock swaying as you grip his shoulders, praying you wouldn’t fall off. Once the hammock settles, you let your legs fall open, feeling the blue-eyed boy’s hands against the underside of your thighs. You wrap your legs around him and feel him shuffle above you. You gasp when he presses against you, he’s so incredibly hard and you can feel his precum dribble from his swollen tip.

“JJ, please.”

“Patient, sweet girl.”

You both let out loud moans as he pushes himself into you, seeing stars when he fills you to the brim. You grip his soft locks, bated breathing escaping your lungs when he slowly pulls out only to ram back into you. JJ buried his face into the sweat covered skin of your neck when he felt his high coming on. It didn’t shock you as his hips jerked desperately against your body, especially after he’s been on edge for days.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.”

“M ‘so close, J.”

“Okay, okay.”

He rams harder into your dripping center, your heart pounding in your chest as your overstimulated core was pushed closer to cumming a second time. You wrapped your legs around his waist, whimpering as he reached deeper into you until you cried out with your orgasm, JJ following behind you.

“J.”

“I got you, you’re okay.”

“Fuck.”

He kisses your skin as you come down for your staggering high, eyebrows pulled together and your eyes remaining tightly shut. JJ’s body goes limp against yours, tired out from such a strong orgasm. His hand leaves your body to reach under the hammock to grab the blanket stored there. The two of you lay, naked, in each other's arms as the sea breeze rustles over you and your slight haze fades away. Your boyfriend mumbles loving words as you slip into a quiet sleep.

“So, no bike for you?”

Is the first thing you hear as the sun shines onto your closed eyelids, JJ’s warm, bare body still pressed sweetly to yours. You glance over to see the Pogues smirking at you and the blonde wrapped around you.

“Fuck off, Cameron.”

[boys-from-santacarla]

can I request a David X Michael smut? if you're not comfortable then I totally understand :)

Notes: Ok, so first off: thank you so much for your request🤍. Second: this is my very first time writing a one shot about these boys, so I came up with this because I'm sure David's kink is to watch Michael hunt, so I tried my best. I don't know if this is what you were expecting, but I really really hope you like it 🤞🏻❤️. I accept feedback, writing advices, constructive criticism 😂, and more comments you want to let me know! I'm sorry you had to wait so much, btw, but I'm new on editing long posts on Tumblr.

Word Count: 1461

Warnings: NSFW, cursing, mentions of murder, mentions of blood, blowjob, handjobs, and basically just gay vampires.

Fast Learner (David x Michael)

They were on their way back to the cave. It had been four months since his turning, so by now the things coming with being a vampire were already accepted by Michael. But the midnight killings were still hard to get used to.

"You were good tonight, Michael." David commented interrupting his moral dilemma and sliding his arm over his shoulders. He tried to smile kindly and accepted the embrace.

"He says that 'cause he wants to get in your pants!" Paul joked from behind.

Everyone laughed and David gave him the finger, only increasing the laughs from the others.

"But he's right, Mike." Dwayne's deep voice added "You were better this time." Michael only nodded.

They quickly walked down the stairs and everyone went separate ways to get ready to catch some rest. Mike had some plans to get clean and prepare to get back home, but before he could totally get away from David's grasp, the blonde applied more force to keep him in place.

"Where you think you're going?" He asked amused.

"The sun's getting out and I still need to go home." He reminded him in an obvious tone. It was hard to maintain his normal life and keep up with his nocturnal schedule.

David's eyebrows raised up "Don't you think you'll need to look more... Normal?" He said grinning referring to his blood-soaked clothes. "Mom Emerson never told you to get clean after going out to play?" He laughed a little.

Mike decided to play clown too "So that's the only reason I'll need to delay my fly back? Get decent to go out?" He snapped back and bit his lip watching the other's mouth. David's eyes sparkled in delight. Straight to the point was his thing. So It didn't took more than three seconds to place Michael between his cold body and the wall with his hungry lips ravishing him.

He kept his fists on Michael's shirt, grinding his hips against the other boy to give his cock some needed friction.

"You really did good out there tonight. Making those pricks scream..." He whispered, lightly brushing the other's lips with his words. He stucked his tongue out and marked a wet path from jaw to cheekbone, then made a trail to the lobe and bit it. "Gave me a memorable show". He would never admit it out loud, but seeing Michael participate so vividly in their huntings always turned him on.

"I think I've learned from the best." Whispered the brunette while sliding his hands from David's waist to his ass. Then he took possession of the exposed neck with his teeth and tried to place a mark. David moaned and took hold of Michael's clothed cock to control his body and switch places. Now with him in between the wall and Mike, their kissing got rapidly messy, with both nibbling and sucking any exposed area. And Michael swore if he wasn't his new self, he would now be hot all over.

"But still you make a mess of yourself" David separated his mouth from the collarboone in mid attack and yanked the blood stained shirt. Michael knew he was right; it was normal to get back from their hunting with some blood on them, but not this much. So he put some inches of separation between them to lift his shirt and tossed it aside.

"Better this way?" He asked smirking.

"Yeah." David breathed taking in sight the defined pecs and strong abdomen. Wasting no more time he took hold of Michael's right hand and pulled it to his bulge. "Your technique at sucking still needs improvement tho."

"And you're volunteering to let me practice?" Mike replied almost in awe.

"Always"

Michael have him one last hot kiss, roughly biting his mate's lower lip at the end, and began his way down. His cold hands roamed David's belly underneath his shirt, sensually caressing his abdomen. The only thing the newly turned vampire hated about giving David head was the struggle with so many layers of clothes.

"Why don't you ever take this fucking coat off anyway? You're too cold?" Michael grumbled half joking, never taking his hands off.

"You're testing your luck, you know that?" If he was someone else, he would definitely be far gone by now, David thought.

But at least he was doing a great job.

Settling on his knees, he got to his target. He pressed his face to the already fat bulge and wetly kissed the thick layer of fabric. Then he slowly unzipped it and took it out of its confines, earning a low moan and two hands starting to stroke his soft curls.

Before going any further he looked up and saw David's head leaned on the wall with his eyes half closed. He grinned in contentment, feeling a mix of amusement, excitement and happiness realizing the power he had over this creature in vulnerable moments like this.

He took in one hand the cock before him and David inahled a sharp breath when it was softly squeezed at the base. This was followed by a leisure lick from the bottom to the top. As if savouring it for the first time, Michael gave it a couple of more tastes to then take the crown in his mouth, smacking his lips when he pull it out.

"Fuck, Michael" David breathed.

"That can come later" Mike answered and resumed his work putting the crown in his mouth again, this time giving it shelter a few more seconds before taking it deeper in his mouth. To cover the part left behind he moved his hand to massage it in rhythm with his mouth, and with the other hand he fondle his balls to gently roll and weigh them.

David kept moaning in appreciation, putting some pressure on Mike's skull and tugging at some strands to keep control of the pace, bobbing the head at his pleasure.

Without any more control in himself, David cradled the head with his palms pressing both cheeks and began to frantically fuck Michael's mouth.

"Shit. I love you can handle this" he praised while moving his thump to open more the wet cavity. His panting went wild as well as his movements, causing Michael to give up and just relax his throat to take as much as David gave him.

"Michael you keep it like that and I'm coming soon." David said and then stopped his fucking. He whined and pulled out dripping cock. "Get up" he ordered. Michael obligued and tried to gain some balance putting his hands on David's waist.

"You got big hands, babe." David mentioned "Why don't you work them on us." He commanded unbuckling Michael's jeans while Mike himself spitted on his palm to add slickness. When Michael's dick sprung free, he brought their hardnesses together. The touch made them both gasp, but in search for more Mike took both cocks more firmly in his right hand and changed his angle a bit to fit them correctly in the grasp.

Both moaned feeling their swelled dicks move together, and David said, controlling his tone to not sound pleading "Move."

And Michael began the strokes. At first he struggled to keep both cocks in his hand, so he adjusted his fingers to handle them better and began to catch velocity.

Michael started to feel dizzy with pleasure. With the adrenaline from the hunting still flowing through his veins, the sexual act felt even more powerful. So he put his head on David shoulders and moaned louder. "Damnit." He squeezed harder on their cocks.

"Yes. Yes. Just like that, babe." David panted in his ear. He then took hold of his neck with one hand and licked the other to lubricate it before moving it down to help make a better hold on themselves. They both began trusting in matched tempo, seeking their mutual release. They keep thrusting as brutally as they could.

Moments past before Michael whined, signaling his closeness "Oh, god. God, Im gonna come! I'm gonna-" he groaned and lost control of himself, spurting his load, getting both their hands and bellies sticky. The excitement making his body loose made his fangs come out, biting David's shoulder while spasming.

With Michael's hand reflexing involuntarily, and David's hand milking the last of him with hard strokes, David came too, sighing satisfied with relief. After a few recovering moments he noticed Michael's hand had fallen, breaking the contact on the now resting organs, but still felt the fangs cutting through his rough skin. Albeit not hurt, he protested the injury trying to catch his lover's attention clearing his throat. When Michael didn't respond, he tried again taking a deep breath and speaking "I still need to teach you to control those." He then smiled

Michael chuckled.

[fruitcored]

hi king.. dreamyjaylen 12 perhabs

12- things you said when you thought I was asleep

hi thank you for suggesting this and also thanks for being patient while i procrastinated on this for almost a week <33 this is set in early season seven btw. also posted to ao3 here!

Sleeping through the night is out of the question entirely at this point, but this is the worst time to wake up. It’s not light out yet, won’t be for hours, but the city isn’t silent enough for Jaylen to fall asleep again. Judging by the ambient noise seeping in through the window behind the kitchen table, fans are already swarming in for an early Garages-Tigers game. 

Sometimes there’s the light patter of rain to drown it all out, especially this time of year, but tonight there’s nothing to keep her and her thoughts company. Nothing to pay attention to.

Jaylen used to think she was a shitty sleeper, even before everything. Now she could kick herself for whining over five hours of rest. It’s not about the exhaustion anymore– it’s about the loneliness. The physicality of the thing that never quite feels so bad when she’s got someone else to focus on. She can never get her mind to rest when she’s alone, and with Dreamy sound asleep in the other room, Jaylen feels more isolated than ever. Alone comes so easily these days, but the noise never leaves. There is no peace.

Even returned from the dead, there is no respite. Fucking figures.

Without even really thinking about it, Jaylen’s picking up her phone and scrolling to her contact list. It’s only once she finds her thumb hovering over Mike’s contact page that she realizes what she’s doing– more out of instinct than out of will at this point. But even if he could hear Jaylen now, he’s got no way of responding. 

Jaylen just wants to talk to a familiar face, no strings attached, and there’s not much of that going around these days.

All her teammates avoid her nowadays. Jaylen’s not naive; she sees them eyeing her like she’s some sort of caged animal, and nobody wants to be the one to toss her a slab of meat. They’re all scared they’ll be next. Which is fucking stupid– they all know full well she’s only hit players on opposing teams.

Anyways, she doesn’t think any of them would take too kindly to a late-night cold call. Duende offered Jaylen his number when she returned from the shadows, along with a hell of a lot of leeway when it came to missed practices. He told Jaylen she was welcome to call him if she needed anything at all. Still, he’s no Mike. 

No– that’s not fair to Teddy. Nobody could be. Regardless, calling him wouldn’t do Jaylen any good. She wants someone who’ll talk to her like a person, not like a captain. 

“Fuck it,” Jaylen grumbles to herself before pressing the dial button next to Mike’s name. She sits and traces the grooves of the wooden kitchen table while she waits. After five full rings of the dial tone, the line goes silent for a moment too long, and then it’s the same shitty little voicemail message in his shitty little Bellevue accent that Jaylen always teased him for.

“Hey! It’s Mike. Um, I guess I’m not here to pick up your call right now, which means I’m probably playing ball. I’ll call you back when I’m done, but in the meantime leave me a message. If it’s urgent, code word is knuckleball. Peace!”

Then she’s left to the silence of the message recording, and blood pounds in her ears against empty static. She’s only just gotten used to that feeling.

“Hey. It’s me.” Jaylen pauses for a moment like Mike could somehow respond, then berates herself for even considering the notion. “I… I don’t know. I just wanted to talk. To somebody.” Voice low, she curls into herself, suddenly self-aware.

She lets out a ragged exhale, just to get something out into the stale air. Just to fill the silence. “I didn’t know who else to call. I think most of me is still in there with you.” Begrudgingly, Jaylen lets herself imagine Mike listening wordlessly at the other end of the line. Like he’d shut up to save his own life.

“Nobody knows what to do with me anymore. You’d get that, I think. Everyone either loved or hated you. But with me… I don’t know.” Jaylen worries absently at a cuticle, and it doesn’t even bleed for a change. It’s long since stopped hurting when she does that. “It’s almost better when people hate me, or fear me– because at least they know what they’re getting into. There’s no sugarcoating it. They should be cautious, sure, but for themselves. Not for me.”

Jaylen imagines being around her is like standing too close to a fire. All of her feels crooked and rough and wolfish in a way that she’s never known before. She’s always looking to break something.

“I like it better when people are straightforward, when they can talk to me without acting like I might, like, combust out of nowhere. Even Dreamy looks at me like I’m delicate. I just want someone to treat me like a person, and she of all people should get that.” 

Jaylen doesn’t know when she got louder, but suddenly she’s hyper-aware of the dissonance between her voice and the hollow air on the other end of the line. She chokes out another shuddering breath, and the next inhale tastes hot and cloyingly metallic. 

The realization that she’s talking to an empty room does nothing for Jaylen’s confidence, but she presses on, softening her tone.

“I just… I love her so goddamn much. But I’m always afraid I’m hurting her, and she’s afraid to tell me. She doesn’t need to… to try and save me, or anything. Nobody needs to. The fans brought me back fucked up, and now they can deal with the consequences just like I am. I didn’t choose to come back this way, but I chose to hit all those players. Every single time.”

It’s true. And the worst fucking thing is that some hungry part of her needs that choice, relishes in it. If Jaylen could go back and live a normal life, she would in an instant, but here at least she means something. At least she’s useful. Whatever this game has put her through, it’s made her more real than she was before.

As for more alive. Well. 

“I mean, I deserve to be held accountable like–” Jaylen stops short at the figure in the shadows of the bedroom doorway.

Her hands shake as she sets her phone facedown on the kitchen table, and she tries not to sound too guilty. “Dream.”

Dreamy blinks, still bleary-eyed, and Jaylen curses herself for not thinking to put on a cup of coffee in advance. “Babe. You don’t need to, like, hang up. I don’t wanna interrupt.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Jaylen looks down at her hands. “I was... talking to Mike. Or his voicemail, I guess. I didn’t know who else to call.” When she glances back up at Dreamy, Jaylen doesn’t think she’s imagining the pity in her eyes.

Dreamy gives a quiet hum of understanding, already drifting over to stand behind Jaylen at the table. “Bad night for sleeping?”

Jaylen shrugs. “As per usual. Figure there’s no point in trying anymore.” She shifts to glance up at Dreamy. “How much did you hear?”

The ensuing beat of hesitation is just enough for Jaylen to feel appropriately self-conscious. Their shitty old radiator shudders to a start behind them. “A bit,” Dreamy admits. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but. Thin walls. I couldn’t sleep either.” 

She sets a comforting hand on Jaylen’s shoulder, tracing a sleep-warm thumb over the back of her neck. Every touch burns a little bit, since Jaylen’s come back, and she shoves down that initial instinct to flinch away. Instead, she leans into the warmth. Dreamy takes a breath. “I’d always be honest if you were hurting me, you know.” 

Maybe a little too much doubt seeps through in Jaylen’s short sigh, because Dreamy repeats, “I would, Jay.”

“I know you would,” Jaylen replies, carefully measured. “I’m just afraid that I’m doing it without even knowing. I want to know how I make you feel.”

Dreamy nods in the corner of Jaylen’s eye, and Jaylen tries to focus on the soft pressure of Dreamy’s thumb skimming over her skin. “Do I suffocate you?” Dreamy asks, more vulnerable than she was a moment earlier.

“No,” Jaylen replies immediately. “You’re the only thing that grounds me, most of the time.” It’s the only thing she knows for certain. 

It takes Dreamy a moment to respond.

“I thought you were gone again when I woke up,” she says, tone unreadable. The city buzzes on in the silence between them, already rousing itself slowly. “I thought maybe you’d been incinerated again somehow, until I heard your voice out here.”

Jaylen swallows numbly, and it tastes like smoke. “Sorry.” She wishes she could say more.

“Don’t be,” Dreamy murmurs. “Point is, I want you here. I don’t think we have a choice at this point, but you aren’t making me stay. I could leave if I wanted to.”

“Nothing is a choice these days,” Jaylen says. No matter how different life has become since she’s returned, things started changing far before that. Whatever life was before blaseball, there’s no turning back. None of it matters anymore.

It’s like she’s rotting away from the inside out these days, like she’s making up for lost time. It’s impossible to deny the blood pull at the heart of her, raw against the transience of her will. With every game, every wrong pitch, she becomes more myth than human. It’s all a balancing act, and Jaylen is losing.

“Right. So I just don’t want things to feel any more... wrong than they have to be.”

Jaylen laughs, hollow. “Too late.”

“Maybe so. But we’ll figure things out.” This time when she glances back at Dreamy, there’s none of that cautious reverence in her eyes. It’s softer, more familiar. It feels like a promise.

Sometimes Jaylen forgets she’s alive, like her body still doesn’t quite know how to operate. Every burning touch is a reminder of the way she’s spent the last five years. But when she looks up at Dreamy, Jaylen already feels more real. Dreamy is here, and Jaylen is too, and the tangibility of that makes it feel like it matters more.

[mfbakuhoe]

💥Handcuffs (Bakugou x Reader)💥

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Words: 3306

Genre: smut

Summary: You want revenge on your Boyfriend, but it backfires reallly quick.

Warnings: rough sex, swearing, hair pulling, name-calling

All Characters are aged up 18+, reader is on Birth control!

Okay so I tried some smut. Idk how I feel about it bit it was definitely a lot of work so I’m going to post it anyway. Btw I'm lowkey swerving to Kacchan's lane. Fight me 🙈

Enjoy!

____________

Frustrated the ash blond hero threw himself on king size bed, his member throbbing against his jeans. Ever since you, teased him through text during his patrol, telling him all the dirty things you wanted him to do to you when he comes home, he couldn't get his mind off how he would first eat you out and then fuck you senseless, til you begged him to stop.

Bakugou could barely focus on his job, causing his clueless best friend Kirishima to send him home, worried that he might pass out during the shift.

He was more than thankful, that his red headed friend didn't notice the buldge in his pants, being the reason for him to walk uncomfortably slow being so unconcentraded.

Bakugou rushed home as fast as he could, desiring nothing more than you walls clenching around him, but as he pushed open the door and rushed up the stairs, he didn't see anything but a empty, neat looking bed and a red scarf laying on the pillow.

He sat himself up and took his phone into his big hands, aching to release himself in you. As he was about to unlock his phone, so he could could text you, a message popped up on the top of his screen.

Baby momma

,,Put the scarf on your eyes?", he read rather questioning ,,What the fuck, Y/N?", Bakugou sighed sceptical, turing to the side facing the red scarf. Before he could ask you where you were and why he should do it, another messages from you popped up on his screen.

,,If you wanna cum today, than I'd recommend you to obey. You better not take them off.", he muttered confused. ,,Fuck, Y/N. When I catch you, I'll fuck the shit out of you", he said in a loud slightly amused voice, aware of his girlfriend spying on him with her quirk.

A part of the feisty spiky haired boy was pissed of, but the bigger, dominant part in him liked the little games you played, eager to know what you had planned. Bakugou grabbed the scarf to his left, wrapping it around his head, shutting off his eyesight completly.

,,I'm ready. Come let me fuck you know." he snapped, his patience reducing with every passing second. Suddendly he felt a force lightly pushing him, to lay down on his back, fixing his wrist on the sides of his head, as he tried to take off the scarf out of reflex.

,,I told you not to take of the fucking scarf, didn't I?", a low feminine voice whispered in Bakugou's ear, sending shivers down his spine.

,,What the fuck do you think you're doing, Y/N?", Bakugou asked through gritted teeth, his arousal sending high amounts of dopamine through his body.

You straddled his lower body as you talked ,,Did you forget about last time, when you told me next time we fuck, I could do whatever I wanted to you? Well, here we are", you explained cheeky, grabbing his wrist to hadncuff him on the metal framework of the bed.

,,I was joking, to make your whining ass shut up about you loosing control over your body, whenever I fuck you. As if it's my fault, that you're so submissive to me", he said cockily, smirking as he boosted his own ego.

,,Even if you were joking, you are the one laying beneath me right know, obeying all of my demands. Are you so desperate for me to make you cum?", you asked in a provoking tone, ripping off the scarf off his face. Bakugou squinted his eyes, at the stromg light hitting his eyes, before looking at you, sitting on top of him. His body tensed up, when he saw hat you were wearing, making hs member in his pants twitch in excitement.

You wore a red lace strapse lingerie set with two red ribbons crossing from your bra down you torso to your red lacy thong.

His eyes got big, once he realized, that you weren't joking and you were actually the one with the upper hand.

,,I'm warning you, Y/N. I'm not in a good mood right now", he hissed at you piercing his narrowed eyes through yours, but he didn't intimidate you at all.

,,What you gon' do, daddy? If I wanted to, I could just let you lay here, waiting for you boner to go away by itself", you smiled mischieviously.Questioningly you tilted your head, waiting for an answer but all you recived was a harsh growl from you s/o, who understood, he hadn't had any power over you right now.

You leaned down, suppoting youself on his chest, licking on his ear before you continued talking, hearing Bakugo hasrhly sucking in the air.

,,Now, I will make you feel, what it means to really lose control over you own body. I will make you beg for release and satisfaction.", you moaned. seductivly, as you rubbed your cold hands up and down his warm abs, hidden underneath his shirt, feeling his body quiver. You slid your hands further down his torso to his abdomen, teasingly stopping at his waistband while challenging raising one eyebrow, expecting a much more desperate reaction from his side, but instead he just kept looking at you through narrowed eyes and a clenched, jaw. His forhead was covered in folds whilst the first sweatpearls  glistened on his skin. You knew Bakugou to well bye now, to not know, that he forced himself through this situation, fighting back his desire just because he refused to grant you this triumph.

,,You seem very calm and collected. Maybe we can change that", you whispered with a impish smile adornigng your face. You slid down a little bit, lowering your face on eyesight with his crotch area. Arching your back provocatively, while you pushed your ass in the air just to recive a dangerous grunt in response.

,,What is it, daddy? Why do you look so mad?", you asked innocent, unbuttoning his pants in a painfully slow pace, not taking your eyes off of his. Bakugou still refused to interact with you, but by the increased pace of his chest pushing up and down, it was pretty clear, what effect you had on him.

,,You know daddy, your flavor is my most favorite flavor on earth", you hummed happily pulling down his pants to his knees, mustering the big buldge peaking though his grey boxers. Plaxing small kisses on the thin fabric covering his cock to make him grunt in response. You felt yourself getting wet, but you were far from done with him. You unpacked his member, watching it jumping up his belly. ,,That's why I gotta apreciate aaall off it. Slowly devouring all your juices, tasting every inch of you, daddy", you finished, your hot breath whipping against his hard cock.

A small groan left Katsuki's throat, as you kept pushing him to his limits, causing a smile to creep up your face. You had him where you wanted him to be, without doing as much as you expected you would have to do. You wanted him to plead you, with his words and he knew it.

His eyes angrily pearced through your soul, his breathing heavy and uneven. Eager you challenged him with a smile on you face, staring back at him.

,,You know what? I totally forgot to do the laundry. I guess my dick hunger can wait", you said pushing yourself up, ready to go. You tried to scare him. To provoke him into thinking he has to bare with his nearly exploding cock for any longer. ,,But can you tho?", you asked as you almost left through the door, swaying you hips for the full effect.

,,STOP, FUCK- GODDAMN IT, Y/N! GET YOUR FUCKING ASS BACK HERE AND PLEASE ME! I CAN'T TAKE YOUR BULLSHIT ANY LONGER!", you heard him scream from behind you. A jubilant smile covered your face, as you turned on your heels, facing the handcuffed ash blond eccentric, who exhaustedly leaned back with his his eyes closed, breathing heavyily. The despair in his voice turned you on even more, realizing the effect you had on him. You weren't nearly a sadist, other than your boyfriend. You just liked the backfires you was able to shoot at him, knowing that it was all your achievment.

,,Fuck no."

,,What?", he breathed weak.

,,I said no. I'll fuck you, when I want to fuck you. And I'll please you, when I want to please you, got it?", you said with a dominance in you voice, which didn't only surprise Katsuki, but yourself. His eyes widened, following every step you took towards him. Positioning both of you knees next to his legs on the bed. You bend over a little bit, grabbing his dick without a word, causing a deep groan out of Bakugou's mouth.

,,You crazy bitch", he mumbled still heavy breathing.

,,Don't act like you don't enjoy it, sir", you gasped, licking a long stripe up his dick. You felt Bakugou slowly relaxing under your touch as you continued lubricating his hard cock. You played with the tip off his cock, circling your tongue around it, tasting his salty pre-cum.

And before he knew it, he felt your warm, wet mouth covering his entire shaft.

,,Fuck", he groaned, pulling the word long. You began to bop you head up and down his penis, covering the parts, that didn't fit inside your mouth with your hands. Even though you gave him a little bit of relief, you weren't planning on giving him 100%, to keep the control over him.

,,Faster, baby. Faster" he moans lifting his hips up. Denying his wishes, you kept the same pace. As he didn't want to take any more of you teasings, he started to face fuck you himself, pushing his hips up and down over and over. You abruptly stopped, releasing his cock, eliciting a frustrated groan of him.

,,Don't do that again", you warned, sliding up a little. Bakugou silently followed all you movements, curious as well as exhausted. All he wanted was you to make yo scream his name, being able to release himself in you and go to sleep, but you made it so hard for him, teasing your way through his temper. As you pushed your thong to the side, his eyes lit up, sending a new load of dopamine through his body, ready for what was going to happened next. You grabbed his cock, rubbing the tip against your dripping wet core, spreading your juices between your folds. Teasing both of  you with your movements, you started grinding your exposed sexuality against his, massaging your pulsating nerve bud. Groans and moans filled the room. As you leaned down, inches away from his face, his hot breath whipped your face sending goosebumps all over you body. His eyes were filled with the want to feel all of you, he needed you more than anything, so he pressed his lips on yours, closing the gap between you. He licked your bottom lip, requesting admission. Slightly parting your lips, you grant him inlet, feeling a courious, wet tongue exploring your mouth. Both of you fought for the dominance, with the result of Bakugou winning.

Fustrated, you pulled away, taking his member into you hand again, slowly sliding down on him, feeling every inch of him, filling you. Again, a song of moans and groans chimed, givin you a feeling of euphoria.

,,Oh, D-daddy", you sighed digging you nails into his chest, still covered with his shirt as you started to roll your hips on his cock. ,,Yes baby, grind on daddy's cock. just like that", he groaned in pleasure, watching the beautiful woman on him grinding herself on him to find her own pleasure like the naughty girl she was.

,,F-fuck! Faster", he begged ,,No.", you answered cold throwing your head back in pleasure while seductively biting your bottom lip, as you rubbed your aching pleasure pearl. Your moans sounded like music to Bakugou, wanting to fuck you harder to hear even more of it. He pulled his wrist, trying to break the handcuffs. You noticed his attempt on freeing himself and got nervous. Bakugou was definitely strong enough to rip those cheap handcuffs apart, making you wonder, why didn't attempt it earlier.

,,Stop, what are you doing?", you asked, still bouncing up and down on his cock.  ,,What do you think I'm doing?", he shot back, constantly pulling on the handcuffs. ,,No, stop! It's my turn to fuck you til you cum. You promised!", you said as you stopped fucking yourself on him, afraid of him succeeding in breaking free.

,,Fuck that. Fuck all of that. Fuck the promises. Fuck you, loosing your control whenever I fuck you, so hard , that all. You can do is moan like my little slut!", he hissed, finally breaking the cuffs. You swallowed hard, as he send you a dark mischievous smile, causing goosebumps on your skin. Before you could react, he'd flipped you around, making you squeal, as he towered over you placing his hands left and right next to your head, making it impossible for you to escape.

,,So, who is in charge now?", he grunted. Shocked you didn't know how to react. You lost all your power over him with one snap turning back to your submissive mindset for him.

,,Why aren't you saying anything, babygirl? Is it your ego?", he kept provoking ,,You've been a very bad girl today and bad girls should get a fair punishment, shouldn't they?"

You didn't know what to say, until Bakugou flipped you on your knees with one hand movement. ,,I'm sorry, Katsuki!", you pleaded but in vain.  ,,Uh uh, I don't wanna hear none of that shit. All I want you to do is to moan for me", he muttered low, the smile in his face audible. He was happy to be in charge again and taking what's his, as he should've done a long time ago. ,,Making anybody here beg is my job." He got off the bed and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. Not a second later you felt his hard cock ramming inside of your heat, unleashing a loud screech. Although you two had sex before, his length and thickness was always a lot for you to take in

You yelled out in pain and pleasure at the same time, as he began to relentlessly push in and out of you with no mercy. His grunts and groans making you feel hotter by every second. Bakugou arched your back and grabbed a full fist of your hair, pulling your head towards him. His cock endlessly ramming your vagina, increasing the amount of juices in your core.

Stickiness, moans, skin on skin clapping together. All of those were sounds together, sounded like his personal anthem from you to him. He relished to see you squirm but still enjoying yourself, due to his work.

Tears of pleasure rolled down you cheeks. His roughness and dirty words turning you on so much, to the extent of you feeling like you're going to explode.

,,Fuck, Katsuki...p-please c-can I cum?", you stuttered, as you felt a knot building up in your stomach.

,,What do think this is, baby girl? The welfare? Don't you dare cummkng until I tell you so and if you do...", he toughly rammed his dick inside of you, hitting your g-spot, as he listened to your content moan in response ,,I will fuck you even harder than this."

His words made your abdomen clench together. If he kept on dirty talking to you like that, you would definitely lose it all and cum before you could notice. Bakugou slowed his pace as he pulled himself out of you, causing you to whine at the emptiness he left.

He released your hair and flipped you on you back again, before kneeling down, placing his head between your soft thighs.

Breathing's echoed through the room, one heavier than the other.

,,Tch, thinking I will pity you after being such a bad girl is very dumb of you", he grunted, his breath cooling down your aching bottom.

He started to licking and biting his way down the soft flesh of you inner thigh, skipping the place you needed his affection the most, as he continued the same motions upwards on the other thigh.

,,Please, daddy!", you begged, impatient to finally feel his tongue on your core.

,,Please what?", he digged deeper. He drove yo nuts, knowing exactly what you wanted.

,,Please eat my pussy, til I beg you to let me cum", you whined almost crying as you couldn't handle the amount of arousal in your body.

,,So sumbissive", he grinned cocky, before he passionately began to make out with you lower body. You felt his tongue flicking and twisting around you clit sucking on your little nerve bud. Your body was burning due to excitement, setting you on fire. Bakugou pushed his tongue inside of you, drilling all your juices out of you.

You were a moaning mess. You grabbed his hair to get some hold pulling on his blonde spikes, causing him to grunt and sending vibrations against your core.

,,Oh, yes! That feels so good, daddy please don't stop!", you moaned heavily, unable to arrange you thoughts. It felt magical to you. The way he twirled and curled his tong inside of you, soon caused the knot to reappear in your stomach. You pushed your hips further in his face moaning for release.

,,Don't forget not to cum, baby girl", he muttered throaty, pulling you back into reality.

,,Katsuki, I can't take it anymore."

,,Do I look like I give a fuck?", he asked ironically, continuing to taste all of your sweetness.

,,Mmh, you taste so good", he whispered satisfied ,,but I really wanna cum inside of you today", he grinned, piercing his eyes through yours as he propped himself up, pulling your abdomen closer to him.

He inserted his length into you, grunting throaty. This time he gave you a little, to adjust before he started moving his hips.

He grabbed your wrist and pinned them left and right to your bed, looking you deep in the eyes.

The innocent shine in your eyes, being the engine of his hip movements, increasing his pace of fucking you.

,,Katsuki..." Your voice a quiet whisper, bouncing off of his skin as he hungrily pushed his lips on yours, making you taste your sweet angle dust on his tongue.

The kiss was more passionate and intense, being the last straw to push both of you over the edge.

He quickened his pace once more, continuously hitting you G-Spot. You tilted your head to the side as you moaned out of breath pleading for release.

,,Please can I cum, please daddy I can't take it any longer!"

,,Cum." As you heard the magic letters rolling off his tongue, you didn't hesitate,  turning into a squirming, quivering mess under him, moaning loudly as your high rolled over you. Clenching around his shaft, you began to milk Bakugou, who came seconds after you, easing himself in you. He slowly rode out both of your highs, before he collapsed on top of you, burying his face on the crook of your neck. His length still inside of you.

,,Katsuki, the rag on the nightstand", you mumbled out of breath, signaling him to pass it to you.

He turned his head to the side and chuckled.

,,You really thought about everything, didn't you?", he asked as he wiped away the cum from your entrance.

,,Yeah, well almost. I forgot to calculate in your strength", you giggled as a cocky smile covered his face.

,,Just „the best in everything" things."

[gilmesc1]

Sacrificing my remaining braincells to the void

Ok friends, you requested it, you awaited it, I’ve cleaned out my ears to remove the melted remains of my brain, here we go, we’re doing this, tell my partner I love them. It’s time...for syscourse analysis.

So this is a very bare bones run through of syscourse, it’s as basic as it gets and if need be I’ll focus on components of it after I recover.

So, syscourse is literally the words system+discourse. Bet you guys never saw that coming. 20 seconds into this fucking mess and we already have a major plot twist. And I know what you guys are thinking. A bunch of traumatized people not getting along? Another plot twist!

Jesus I better tone down the sarcasm.

Anyways, what the fuck even has to happen to have syscourse, apparently two types of systems. Yes friends, two types of systems, and I’m not talking DID and OSDD (which are really quite similar).

Our players are traumagenic systems and endogenic systems. Traumagenic systems are systems that formed out of trauma, like DID and OSDD systems. Naturally this plunks me down in the traumagenic catagory, thanks to my big fucking mess of trauma. So we got that down, moving on to endogenic.

So an endogenic system is a system that supposedly split without trauma. No idea where the word endo comes from. Or like, what the fuck endo even means as a word like trauma. (Maybe I want to endo myself after reading a bunch of syscourse? Ok, ok that was bad.)

The biggest issue once you get down to it is who is the Real System tm, and do other systems belong in each other’s tags. This is the part where I’d smoothly bring you all to a good starting point, but *insert deity here* help me, there isn’t one.

Syscourse seems to be older than mankind itself mongrels, because I cannot find where it started and who the tags belonged to first. So for those of you who like to visualize, picture two dogs chasing each other’s tails, running in a circle, and that is syscourse.

So let’s break it down more. I, and I’m sure many others, flocked to tumblr to find others who experience what I do, that being traumagenic system stuff. Again, we have trauma that results in our system’s creation. And that’s all fine and good, sure not everyone gets along with each other but for the most part all us systems are vibing and sharing memes and posts.

Now like I said, to be an endogenic system you are a system without trauma, and to me this is a little confusing. Brains aren’t made to be multiple and I’m the clusterfuck I am because of trauma, but to just magically thanos snap a system into existence? That I have a harder time wrapping my mind around.

There are a lot of examples of endo systems, but the ones I’ll be looking at today are tulpas. What is a tulpa? Well at first I thought it was a ghost thingy that you get by thinking about it, (supernatural anyone?) but now that I look into it, it’s apparently a Tibetan religious practice.

So we have science vs spirituality. This spells disaster already for syscourse.

So to get a better idea of tulpas than I could give you, I’d recommend looking at tumblr posts on tulpas because I’m in sarcasm mode and not really in a position to educate about those. Long story short it’s a thought process where you can essentially create a second being that is similar to an alter, as it exists in a headspace and can switch in.

Now I said headspace and switch in on purpose, because that is where the issue lies. Endos and traumagenics fight about words like that, and who they belonged to first. Can an endo use the words system, fronting, ect when they are scientific words specifically for DID or OSDD, or can traumagenics use the word multiplicity when it supposedly came from tulpamancy?

Side note: Guys do not lecture me on words, I’m trying to give examples, sorry but I don’t have my words for traumagenics dictionary on me rn, that’s in my other hoodie.

The majority of day to day syscourse is endos and traumagenics “infiltrating” each other’s tags and safe spaces, and ruining everyone’s day. From what I have seen, many traumagenics do not want endos to interact with them, and personally I see a few good reasons for this.

1, mental illness is not a trend and DID and OSDD are very very rough to live with. With there currently being a lack of scientific evidence on the existence of tulpas, I understand how it can seem that some are cashing in on the “DID hype” and giving off this romanticized view of being a system.

2. People with DID might be looking for specific DID info, and having to strain through irrelevant topics to them might be heavily stressful.

3. We’re traumatized and random things can set us off. This is the internet and I think everyone is at least a little toxic, and both sides have said shit to each other, but when people get triggered its easy to lose control. Not an excuse, tis merely a fact.

I’ve seen endos post things like “all systems are valid” and it’s a nice sentiment, in my heart of hearts behind my black toxic drama loving one, I’d like it if systems could just get along, but on a topic as complex as mental illness I don’t think that’ll happen.

I’ve seen both sides say things that were really uncalled for, and there’s no right or wrong answer overall in a fight like this. Naturally I’m team traumagenic but as for whether or not I feel like endos are valid or not, jury’s still out on that.

Hear me out, I have heard the theory that endo systems can help deal with trauma despite not being formed by trauma, and I’ve met a few people irl and seen things that confused me. Maybe they were traumagenic systems who didn’t know their trauma, idk.

I really don’t want drama. I’m sure systems on both sides are good people but like I said, the internet is toxic. (btw I love you mutuals, you are all good people)

In my humble opinion syscourse is stupid. I think there definitely should be a discussion about endos and traumagenics, but like can we talk like adults and not be like “WE’RE ALL VALID UWUUUU” with a string of toxicity behind it.

That level of back and forth is dizzying and irritating, and quite honestly I don’t want to deal with it. This is me trying to be neutral and give an overview, but that’s hard as I am traumagenic myself, and I don’t really understand the other side.

That’s why I’m not going to say I reject endos. I need to figure out more for myself and since this does leak into my personal life i want to do it carefully. I’m open to polite discussions, but I really want to keep out of syscourse drama.

Another side note: Something I think that is especially stupid is the amount of outrage over users saying they dni with endos. It’s a choice for that person and it should be respected. Like how I have personal reasons for keeping discussion open, others have personal reason for closing it. That should be respected and not ranted about. There are thousands of tumblrs, find one that isn’t dni and leave those people alone.

Additionally, if any endos do want to talk I’d prefer if you dm me, as I want to keep my blog traumagenic focused, both for my followers and for me, out of respect for those who don’t want any endogenic content and for me so i don’t wear out my three brain cells (I’m accepting name ideas for them)

To end this, I don’t want drama, nothing makes it easier for me to cave to my vices then drama, and syscourse is so freaking tiring that it would be like rolling around like sandpaper to get involved.

So there it is, my useless, sarcastic post on syscourse. Let’s see how many followers I lose, and if need be I can look into more stuff about syscourse since this is an overview.

Again this was supposed to be neutral and not necessarily all of my views, I’ll get more personal on it later maybe, but tbh I’m too fucking tired for that rn. Chronic illness, hell yeah.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed, I’m impressed I wrote it all, have a good day guys, I have to go to a party while feeling like my body is leading a rebellion.

I don’t even like people, why am I going XD

But hey shout out to social distancing, I’m using my personal space bubble and NO ONE can stop me.

Ok, time to give the braincells a rest. See you guys

[thecloserkin]

Doom (2005) fic roundup

I have now recommended this action/sci-fi/horror film based on a bestselling video game franchise to not one not two but three friends and I am happy to report they all concur, cinema Peaked in 2005, this is the best movie ever made. I watched it for the first time on @shipcestuous‘s recommendation: She has an extremely thorough breakdown here, and the pitch of her enthusiasm and the penetration of her analysis are without peer. Honestly I can’t think of a single reason not to watch this movie. Watch it for Rosamund Pike. Watch it for Karl Urban. Watch it to marvel at how much Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s acting chops have improved in the past 15 years. I have now seen this cinematic masterpiece three (3) times and I have zero (0) regrets. There is a sequel out, Doom: Annihilation (2019) but it’s not worth your time. Recently I went through the John Grimm/Samantha Grimm tag on ao3 and read every single fic, most of them for the second or third time, and I had a fucking blast. Friends, if any of you would like to experience this cinematic masterpiece for yourselves please please PLEASE message me and i’ll send you the link to dl it.

Doom (2005, dir. Andrzej Bartkowiak) is about a squad of Marines dispatched to contain a zombie outbreak in a secure scientific facility on Mars. There is no earthly reason for it to be set on Mars btw so I just chalk this decision up to video game continuity (same with the first-person-shooter sequence in the third act, which is five minutes long and it was the longest five minutes of my life). What’s impressive about this film is it somehow manages not to glorify (1) the military or (2) the scientific establishment. It’s a film stuffed to the gills with dudebros (outside of Rosamund Pike they’re all dudebros) yet to my eternal delight the humor actually landed, and I think the anarchist bent of the narrative is a big part of why (anarchist as in hella skeptical of authority). I don’t think it’s giving too much away to say this is another “we tried to cure cancer, accidentally unleashed the zombie apocalypse” setup. What’s surprising is that the protagonists are failed by science, as an institution. Our protagonists are one of the Marines (Karl Urban) and his estranged twin sister (Rosamund Pike), who is an archaeologist at the quarantined facility. The chemistry between these two is instantly and unmistakably through the fucking roof. The first time they appear in the same frame the other Marines mistake her for his ex, and it just gets better from there. Every time I watch it, the final frame of this film has me flailing and screeching. I still can’t believe we got a mainstream movie that was this good to us—horror movies in general have a track record of being good to us ‘cest shippers, but this is on another level.

cold hearts, thawing by merely (3k) They’re on the run and they get FAKE MARRIED!!! My god the amount of characterization smuggled into this—Jon and Sam getting hot for each other’s respective areas of competence is my entire kink. It’s not predominantly humorous in tone but the humor slaps in the best way. This is my forever favorite because it was written by one of the friends I got into the movie, so tailor-made for meeee ❤

Before, During, After by anr (1k) If you plotted the arc of their lives it would be a circle. Something about the spareness of the prose & the amount of stuff occurring in the interstices really stayed with me. I realized later it’s because I’d read another of the author’s fics from a diff fandom—it’s in the same mode, love to see it when authors just nail that one register.

DOOMED by chase_acow (1k) ”I thought you said your microbiology was rusty!" "You know I like it when you give me the bottom line.” Lmaooo. In case you haven’t noticed this fandom consists almost entirely of post-canon getting (back) together fic.

Normal by mneiai (<1k) Shut the front door did somebody say pre-canon getting-together fic??! Of course we all know 90% of the reason John enlisted was to flee his feelings for Sam right.

Glimpses of Clarity by izzyb (1.5k) John and Sam have rough sex and it’s completely consensual, but still scary. Part of working through trauma is recognizing that removing oneself from the traumatic situation does not, in itself, dispel the trauma. John has this inability to relinquish control, or abate his vigilance—except, apparently, when he’s fucking Sam hahaha.

Written in the Scars (of our hearts) by Mercury32 (21k, unfinished) I don’t read a lot of soulmark AUs so idk if this is common but it turns out John and Sam are not soulmates??? He gets his tattoo covered up because he’s only ever wanted Sam. They’re on the run because there’s a nationwide manhunt on and they take refuge in their grandpa’s cabin in the woods and along the way they meet Jon’s actual soulmate but he chooses Sam. He will always choose Sam until the day they put him in the ground. The conversation where they explained to their ex-CIA grandfather how they were going undercover as newlyweds is unadulterated gold.

No Heroics by amathela (3k) They go back to their jobs. They try to keep John’s newfound abilities under wraps so as not to turn him into a target or a military guinea pig. The stakes are high but it’s so …. whimsical? And domestic? It’s so good ahhhhh I love it when they’re trying to hide something other than the incest. “He never was able to win an argument against her.” “She rolls her eyes. ‘Not all of us are as pretty as you.’”

He a Tiger Will Be Who Drinks of Me by Brenda (3k) This story is packing some serious mythological and folkloric resonances. I was going to label it post-canon but half of it is pre-canon. When you frame their relationship as Ares and Aphrodite, Selene and Endymion, it does seem inevitable doesn’t it? All roads lead to you.

Need You Tonight by Mercury32 (2.5k) Hot damn it’s a pwp that’s kicked off by Sam having nightmares, and is all about how Sam trusts John implicitly. I still think about the way Rosamund Pike delivers that line in the movie, I know you, like, on a weekly basis. “You've ruined me for other men and I'll probably be walking uncomfortably tomorrow, but no, you didn't hurt me.”

And I Know What You’re Thinking by amathela (1k) Sam loses a lot of blood and John donates his. Course, now that John is a genetically modified superhuman this creates a psychic bond between them. Nobody does dialogue like amathela does, it’s like you can hear the words behind the words the characters are saying.

Homecoming by amathela (1k) Not as playful as her work usually is but still lovely and understated.

Ephelides by Rahmi (1k) Sam gives John anatomy lessons and it’s sexy as haaaaale. "Just because I'm about to give you a handjob doesn't mean I'm not still your sister.” "Your intelligence reflects on me. And you're my brother. Therefore, you're intelligent."

The Edge of DOOM by chase_acow (1.7k) I don’t know what’s going on but the apocalypse is here and Sam and John are shooting things.

If You Don’t Know Me by Now by Mercury32 (4k) Sam and John rifle through his unsent letters and it isn’t 100% full-blown epistolary but we still get a firm idea of what they were up to for those ten years apart. Ok but CONSIDER: what if they sent each other birthday postcards. Imagine!! This line in particular cracked me up: “Congratulations, you finally got your wish of being an only child.”

desert ghosts by river_soul (1k) They’re not “almost home” because they’re together therefore already home asdfkdjfkdjfd. Gorgeously wrought.

You Hit Me Once (kiss with a fist) by aohatsu (3k) I could read pre-canon John/Sam fics at a rate of 100k a day probs. God these kids are so lonely and nobody else understands. John getting into schoolyard brawls to defend Sam’s honor? Habitual bedsharing???!

I Wanna Kiss You (but i want it too much) by Mercury32 (<1k) It’s not a missing moment from canon, exactly—it’s a replay of the scene where the squad meets Sam, only the camera is firmly situated inside John’s head this time. “His fingers are twitching with the need to hold her, to see if the curve of her hip still fits into the palm of his hand, if her forehead still tucks perfectly into his neck. Like a jigsaw puzzle, she'd observed once, made to fit together.”

No Relation by aj2245 (<400 words) I mean the “surprise! they’re not related” reveal came outta nowhere but it was worth it just for this line: “Life on Mars is fragile. The three coffins waiting in the Ark anti-chamber speak to that. One little mistake and she's lost everything. She's lost John, it's just on time delay.”

In the Blood and the Bone by kyrene (10k) Pwp where John and Sam try to get pregnant. It wasn’t my thing but it’s the top-bookmarked fic in the tag, so other people must’ve liked it, and I always try to assume other people are acting rationally so there must be something this fic does well that I’m missing because I don’t care about that facet that much.

**This is not an exhaustive list of John/Sam fics, just a list of the ones I had anything coherent to say about. I do not think there is a single bad fic in the tag and they’re all bite-sized and bingeable!

[thelastspeecher]

Superhero/villain AU - Baby Daddy Drama

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a ficlet!  I’ve been busy, haven’t had time to write up ficlets.  But I have a bit of a break right now, and since I won’t be posting the next chapter of Recoil until tomorrow (I decided I needed to edit it more), here’s some stuff I wrote up today.  I’ve danced around Tate’s role in the Superhero/villain AU, mostly because I couldn’t figure out the circumstances behind how he comes to be.  But I finally figured it out, so behold!  Tate McGucket’s origin story.

(Btw, I forgot to mention, but like in most of my nonsense, Fidds is trans in this)

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              “They’re down,” Stan said, walking into the living room. Ford looked up from his book.

              “Good.  That took a bit longer than usual.”

              “Eh.”  Stan joined Ford on the couch.  “Thanks for letting us chill at your place for a while.”

              “No problem.  May I ask why, though?”

              “Fidds had a baby today,” Stan said casually. Ford’s eyes widened.  “Angie went to go see him and the baby, but we figured that we’d wait a couple days before the girls met their new cousin.  They can be hell on wheels, after all.”  Ford chuckled.

              “That’s an apt descriptor of them, yes.”  Stan’s cellphone dinged.  He dug it out of his pocket.  “Is that an update from Angie?”

              “Yep.”  Stan grinned at his phone.  “And a picture.  Aw, that’s a cute kid.  Not as cute as the girls, y’know, but still.  Pretty damn-”  His phone chimed again.  Stan’s face went slack.

              “Stan?” Ford asked, after a few moments passed in silence.

              “Shit,” Stan whispered.  He looked up at Ford.  “Ford…”

              “Yes?”

              “You- uh- nine months ago, you and Fidds didn’t-” Stan rubbed his face.  Ford felt dread begin to build in his gut.  “You guys didn’t knock boots or something, did you?”

              “Wh- my sexual history is none of your concern,” Ford blustered, trying to mask his growing unease.  Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

              “No, I think it is right now.  Fidds’ kid has twelve fingers.”  A heavy weight settled in Ford’s stomach.

              “Pardon?” he asked.  Stan silently handed him his phone.  Ford looked down at the messages Angie had sent.  The first was a picture of a newborn swaddled in a white blanket, with a large nose like Fiddleford’s and thick, dark brown hair.  Immediately after the picture was a text.

              “Tate here has twelve fingers…” Stan’s phone chimed and buzzed as another text arrived from Angie.  “Fidds won’t say who the other parent is, but I don’t need your mom’s power to figure it out.  You need to talk to Ford right away.”  Ford swallowed and returned Stan’s phone.

              “I didn’t even realize he was expecting.  He didn’t tell me.”

              “Why?  He told everyone else.”

              “I- when we-”  Ford looked away, feeling a flush beginning to creep onto his face.  “I was very…emotionally vulnerable that night. Maybe he was worried about how I’d react.”  Stan was silent.  “As for why he won’t tell anyone outright who helped to- to conceive-”

              “Seems pretty dumb, since it’s obvious,” Stan muttered.

              “I assume Lute is there?”

              “…Yeah.”

              “He probably wants to spare Lute’s feelings.” Ford looked at Stan again.  Stan rubbed his face.  “I mean…”

              “Okay, yeah, you and Lute used to date, which is…really awkward for all this, but Lute’s not an idiot, and Fidds knows that. Lute can figure it out.  Why the hell would he keep his mouth shut when it’s this obvious?”  A strange look crossed Stan’s face.  “…Ford.”

              “Yes?”

              “When did you and Lute break up?” Stan asked in a dangerous tone.

              “…Nine months ago.”

              “Son of a-”  Stan put his head in his hands.  “Please tell me that what I’m thinking is wrong.  Please tell me you didn’t rebound from my brother-in-law by sleeping with one of my other brothers-in-law.”

              “If I was good at lying, I would,” Ford said softly. Stan let out a loud groan. “Look-”

              “Okay, how soon after the breakup did you two sleep together?” Stan interrupted.  Ford was silent.  “Stanford.”

              “That night.”

              “That night?!”  Stan whipped his head up to stare at Ford.  “Holy fucking shit, really?  While Lute was crying over the breakup, sitting on my couch and eating my ice cream, you were banging his older brother?  Son of a bitch, Sixer, the McGuckets aren’t the only family with twiggy, big-nosed farm boys!”

              “I- Fiddleford was visiting, we were reminiscing about our college days, and-”  Ford looked down at his book, still open on his lap.  “Even though Lute and I parted on amicable terms, I was still emotionally vulnerable.  Fiddleford offered me comfort and one thing led to another and-”

              “You do realize he’s gonna kill you, right?” Stan asked flatly.  “The day you two broke up, you slept with his brother.  And you didn’t just sleep with his brother, you got his brother pregnant!”

              “I didn’t know about that last part!” Ford snapped, slamming his book shut.

              “That doesn’t make the rest of it hunky-dory!” Stan shot back.

              “You’re not exactly one to criticize me for who I sleep with!”

              “God fucking-”  Stan ran a hand through his hair, which was beginning to smoke.  “You are not gonna bring me and Angie into this!  We made a shitty decision, yeah, but it wasn’t half as shitty as yours!”

              “You were archnemeses!”

              “You slept with your ex-boyfriend’s older brother the day you broke up!” Stan thundered.  He shook his head.  “God, my three-year-old daughters can tell right from wrong, but I need to explain to you why what you did was bad?”

              “I just- I don’t hear any of this vitriol being sent Fiddleford’s direction,” Ford stammered.  He could feel himself running out of steam, guilt beginning to replace his rage.

              “Two things.  First, he’s not fucking here.  Second, he just had a baby.  I’ll wait for him to be out of the damn hospital before I yell at him.”

              “How considerate,” Ford muttered.  Stan’s eyes narrowed.

              “Don’t get cute with me.”  He jabbed a finger at Ford’s chest.  Ford winced.  Stan was worked up enough that his powers were emerging; the jab felt like it was from a red-hot fire poker.  “You’re the one that fucked up here.  You couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough for the dust to settle from your breakup.  You and Fidds.  Lute’s not gonna be happy about this.”

              “You’re not going to tell him, are you?” Ford asked. Stan scowled.

              “Hell no.  But it doesn’t matter.  Underneath that blustery, overprotective twink exterior, Lute’s just as smart as Angie and Fidds.  He’ll be able to figure it out.  And he’s gonna be hurt.”  Ford felt his chest ache.  “He’s gonna be hurt that the ex-boyfriend he loved so much and parted on such good terms with slept with his brother.  And he’s gonna be hurt that his brother – the one he’s stood up for his whole life – would sleep with his ex-boyfriend.”  Ford slumped against the couch.  “He’s gonna use that anger of his to hide how much this whole thing hurts him.  He was so damned excited to have a new nephew to spoil, and now he knows how that nephew was made.”  Stan looked away.  “Lute and I might have started off rough, but we’re good now.  I’m not gonna be on your side this time.”  Stan stood up.  “I’m gonna take the girls and head home.”

              “But you just got them to nap.”

              “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you when Lute comes to your door demanding answers,” Stan said.  His voice was devoid of emotion.  “I sure don’t want my kids around.”  Stan’s phone chimed again.  Stan looked down at it.  His face hardened.  “Yep.”

              “What?” Ford asked weakly.  Stan shoved his phone in his pocket.

              “Lute figured it out.  He’s on his way.”

              “How bad-”

              “Count yourself lucky that he needs Angie’s help to make tornadoes.”  Stan began to head towards the room his daughters were napping in.  “You might wanna invest in some scuba gear, though.”

----- 

              The door opened to reveal Fiddleford, dressed in baggy clothes, a towel tossed over one shoulder.  Fiddleford rubbed the bags under his eyes.

              “I was expectin’ you at some point,” he said tiredly. Ford swallowed.

              “May- may I come in?”

              “By all means.”  Fiddleford stood to the side, allowing Ford to enter.  Ford had visited Fiddleford’s home a few times.  Each time, it had been somehow both cluttered and clean; every single one of the many pieces of machinery tucked away on some shelf or in a drawer somewhere.  Now, though, it was a mess.  Empty boxes for various baby-related items lined the hallway leading to the door.  In the far-off living room, Ford could see baby clothes and toys scattered on the floor.

              “How- how are you doing?” Ford asked softly as he stepped inside.  Fiddleford closed the door behind him with a shaky laugh.

              “I’ve got no clue how Stan ‘n Angie managed to deal with two at once.”  A shadow fell over Fiddleford’s face.  “Then again, no one in the fam’ly was just pretendin’ to be nice when they helped out with Danny ‘n Daisy.”

              “What do you mean?”

              “My folks are here,” Fiddleford said in a low voice. Ford’s mouth went dry.  “They wanted to stop by fer a couple days to help. And…well…once word spread about Tate’s parentage…”  Fiddleford trailed off.  “They’re goin’ easy on me right now, ‘cause I’m still a bit vulnerable.  But once I’m back to normal, I wouldn’t be surprised if my whole garden up and died, or if a freak windstorm dinged up the house.” Fiddleford sighed.  “Honestly, I wish they’d be upfront about their frustration. It’d be better than this fake cheerfulness.”

              “This seems rather…harsh,” Ford ventured cautiously. Fiddleford slumped against the wall, rubbing his face.

              “I wonder if their reactions would be dif’rent if we weren’t a fam’ly of villains.  The ‘no snitches, no traitors’ code runs deep.  And I’ve betrayed Lute.”  Fiddleford’s voice broke.  “My own brother.”

              “How is he?” Ford asked.  Fiddleford shook his head.

              “If I knew, I’d tell ya.  Within about five minutes of seein’ Tate up close, he stormed out.  Haven’t seen him since.  He’s- Lute ‘n Angie are awful sim’lar.  They struggle to keep their emotions under wraps, ‘specially in the heat of the moment. I get the feelin’ Lute knows he wouldn’t be able to control his powers if he spent time with me or Tate.  He might be fine if I got a bit scratched up, but he wouldn’t want Tate to get caught in the crossfire.”

              “It doesn’t help that Lute tends to use anger to mask his more vulnerable emotions.”

              “No.  It doesn’t.” Fiddleford bit his lip.  Finally, he let out a long sigh.  “Well, no point in delayin’ it.  Come meet the lil Tater Tot.”  Ford silently followed Fiddleford down the hall and into the living room. Mrs. McGucket sat in a rocking chair, holding a small bundle, while Mr. McGucket was tidying the room.  Mr. McGucket looked up at the sound of footsteps. His face twisted.

              “You!” he snarled, stomping over to Ford.  “Get out!”

              “Mr. McGucket, I just-”

              “Leave!  You broke my son’s heart and then broke it again!  Lute’s been devastated by this.”  Mr. McGucket shook his head.  “Can’t believe I was naïve enough to think that Stan would be the problem of the two of ya.”

              “Mr. McGucket-”

              “No arguin’, boyo.  Yer not welcome in this place.  Not after what you’ve done.”

              “Pa,” Fiddleford interjected.  “This is my home.  I let Stanford in.  He can stay until I kick him out.”  Mr. McGucket glared at Fiddleford.  The venom in his expression startled Ford.

              “If Lute hears-”

              “Mearl,” Mrs. McGucket said, still rocking back and forth in her chair.  “Stanford has a right to meet his son.”

              “Th-” Ford started.

              “Don’t thank me,” Mrs. McGucket said shortly. “Then I’d have to say you were welcome. And you aren’t.”  Ford’s body filled with ice at her vicious tone.  She got up from the chair and strode over. As she got closer, Ford could feel harsh, dry, hot wind biting where his skin was exposed.  Fiddleford looked at his mother, exasperated.

              “Ma.  Please cut that out.”

              “Hmph.”  Mrs. McGucket pursed her lips into a straight line, but the wind stopped.  “Hold out yer arms.”  Ford did as he was told.  Mrs. McGucket carefully deposited the bundle she was holding into his arms.  Ford felt his heart begin to race.  He carefully parted the infant’s bangs to reveal his eyes. Tate stared stoically at him, his eyes brown, rather than Fiddleford’s blue.

              “Hello, Tate,” Ford croaked.  Mr. and Mrs. McGucket exchanged a frustrated look before turning away and marching out of the room.  Ford swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.  “Fiddleford, I’m sorry that your parents are-”

              “We’re both to blame,” Fiddleford said.  He stroked Tate’s cheek with one finger.  “I refuse to let ya bear it all on yer own.” His voice was thick with emotion. Ford could only nod, unable to speak, the weight of everything that was happening finally crashing over him in full.

              “He’s very- he’s very handsome,” Ford managed, still staring at Tate.

              “I agree,” Fiddleford said softly.  Tate yawned widely.  Despite himself, Ford smiled.  He held out a finger.  Tate eagerly grabbed it with his hand.

              His six-fingered hand.  Ford had known Tate had twelve fingers like him, but actually seeing it in person was more than he could bear.  He let out a choked sob.

              “You all right?” Fiddleford asked.  Ford shook his head.  “What’s wrong?”

              “Well, my ex-boyfriend flooded my house, my sister-in-law refuses to let me in her house, my twin brother is following her lead, and the relationship I built with my sister-in-law’s family is crumbling.  And all of it is because of the conception and birth of my son.”  Ford closed his eyes.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

              “I hoped it wouldn’t be obvious whose he was,” Fiddleford said.  “I thought I might be able to get away with no one suspecting a thing.”

              “Polydactyly is dominant.  There was a 50% chance he’d be like me.”

              “And 50% chance he wouldn’t.”

              “I just- you were really going to keep me in the dark?” Ford asked softly.  “About my son?  You expected to raise him as a single parent, never telling me whose he was?”

              “I hadn’t planned that far ahead.  All’s I planned was keepin’ it a secret from Lute fer a while. Maybe until he’d found himself a new main squeeze.”

              “What if I had gotten back together with Lute? What then?”

              “I…”  Fiddleford looked away.  “Like I said. I didn’t plan nearly as far in advance as I should have.  I just wanted to keep Lute from gettin’ upset like he did.”

              “No matter how long you held off telling him, he would have been upset,” Ford pointed out.  Fiddleford sighed.

              “Yer right.”  He rubbed his forehead.  “All I can hope for now is that he cools off a bit.  Give the sit’ation some time, and maybe I can build up a relationship with him again.”  Tate began to fuss loudly.  “He’s prob’ly hungry.”

              “Oh.”  Ford handed Tate to Fiddleford.  “I- I should probably go.  I have some work to do at my mom’s place.”  Fiddleford cocked his head curiously.  “She was the only person willing to take me in while my house gets repaired.”

              “Ah.”

              “Even still, she’s pissed at me.  Stan told her what happened.”  Ford rubbed his forehead.  “It feels a bit like it’s just me against the world right now.  And rightfully so.”

              “I’ve been feelin’ the same way m’self,” Fiddleford said softly.  He took a hold of Ford’s hand and squeezed it.  “Don’t worry.  It might take a while, but things’ll blow over soon.”

              “Easy enough for you to say.  Aerokinesis runs in your family,” Ford said.  Fiddleford managed a small smile.  On impulse, Ford leaned over to kiss Tate’s forehead. “Goodbye, Tate.  I look forward to spending more time with you.”  Tate stopped fussing for a moment to stare at him in shock.  Fiddleford chuckled softly.

              “I think he’s lookin’ forward to it, too.”

[artificialqueens]

Notebooks and Post-it's - Chapter 11 - (Branjie) - Thankyoumissvanjie

A/N: Ya’ll wante smut. So here’s some smut. But I mean… It’s me, so expect some heavy angst. Btw, I would love it, if you went on ao3 and commented. I am weak soul, that just wants to feel loved. :)

This performance was done with the sole purpose of making him jealous. 

Well. 

Mission fucking accomplished. 

However, two could play that game.

LINK TO AO3

He was waiting. His body vibrating with anger, jealousy and pure want. 

Having seen José so blatantly flirt with others had made him furious. He had barely been able to string two words together, as he tried to continue the conversation he had with Jason at their table. 

Seeing him move, grind and touch others only managed to remind Brock that he was not his. 

He had given up the right to act like a jealous boyfriend a long time ago. 

And yet, the way José kept on looking back at him, told him that this whole production was for him and only him. 

This performance was done with the sole purpose of making him jealous. 

Well. 

Mission fucking accomplished. 

However, two could play that game.

Which was why he had left him in the club. 

Quickly grabbing a cab and turning off his phone, he returned to the hotel awaiting José’s arrival. 

His heart was racing as his head filled with thoughts of the sweet and filthy revenge‍ he had planned for him.

He had spent the time getting ready. Calling room service to order a bottle of wine, finding his notebook to calm his mind a bit, knowing that he needed to empty his thoughts, so he could get in the right mindset for what was to happen later.

I wish you were mine. If you were you would’ve never done what you did tonight. But not being with me makes you bold. Makes you assume. It makes you hurt me. 

Three months ago I would’ve found someone else to go home with. Now I just want you here. In my bed, in my arms. You’ve already taken up permanent residence in my heart, why not just take over the rest? 

Fuck. He even looked a bit like me. 

I wish you loved me back. 

Guess the joke is on me for leaving you first. 

I mean. I’ve had sex with you for weeks and I still miss you. 

Frantic knocking on the door brought him out of his musings. But Brock had managed to centre himself, as he calmly closed the notebook.

He made no move to get up.

He deserved to wait a bit. 

The knocking didn’t let up, which brought a smile to Brock’s face. 

“Bitch. I know you in there!” The yell was loud, even through the door, meaning that Brock would probably get complaints if he didn’t open the door soon enough. 

Slowly walking over to the door, grabbing his forgotten wine glass, he savoured this last moment of quiet. Knowing that he had a long night in front of him. 

A night the needed him completely devoted to the plan. 

Opening the door he caught José with his hand raised and mouth open, ready to yell obscenities. 

Brock knew that he had his game face on. That his brow was raised in challenge, daring José to be bratty. 

“Oh? That was quick,” He kept his voice low and perplexed - knowing that it would annoy him more than actual anger. If Brock had acted like this in the snatch game, he might’ve had a chance at winning. 

“What the actual fuck?!” José barged past him into the room, voice loud as foghorn and body tight with pent up anger. 

Standing in the middle of the room he was gasping slightly, with sweat running down his neck - both from his earlier dancing and his fury. If Brock were to guess, he had probably run from the cab to his room. That would explain how he had gotten there so quickly. 

All the well-laid plans that Brock had made in the cab flew out of his mind the moment he looked at him. 

It was as if seeing him standing there in front of him made the last two weeks catch up with him.

He couldn’t do it. 

This. 

He wasn’t even that angry.

He was just. So. Tired. 

Tired of only being used for sex. Tired of missing someone that was standing right in front of him. Tired of the inevitable drop of sadness that would come over him the moment José walked out of the door.

“Bitch, you just gone and fucking left me there,” underneath his anger there was a desperate and whiny tone, that betrayed his true state of mind. 

“Vanjie… I can’t do this tonight,”

“What?”

“I can’t.”

“Mami, we just playin’,“ he looked confused at him, which was understandable, he had just done a 180 with no real explanation.

“Not tonight. If you want sex, you’ll have to find someone else. Cause it’s not going to be me,” With the wine in hand he walked over the chair he had occupied minutes before, turning his back to him. “I mean you do you, Papi. You do you.”

“Br-“

“No, really. It’s fine. I just can’t do this tonight.” He picked up his phone, scrolling through his work mail, trying to distract himself from the fact that he was very close to breaking. 

Fuck. He needed to be alone. 

“Vanj. Please leave.” He was very deliberate in his use of ‘Vanjie’ - it was how they talked about each other when it was work-related or when they were out in public. They never referred to each other like that in private - except if they were in drag. 

Brock needed that distance right now. 

He couldn’t turn around, couldn’t look him in the eye. Knew that if he did, he would break - which would either result in him crying his eyes out or fucking José for hours. 

Both options seemed equally horrible. 

Instead, he would wait for him to get the hint and leave. 

The carpet on the floor absorbed all noise, which was why he didn’t hear him until his mouth was right next to his ear. 

“Sure, you want me to leave? I can make you feel real good, Mami.” His voice held a teasing lilt that made his cock twitch. 

Of fucking course, it would be tonight that José would not just go without a fight. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” small kisses were placed on his neck. Slowly, softly trailing from his ear and down. 

“Still sure?” The raspy whisper made the desire in his stomach bloom - his self-control hanging on by a thin thread. 

“Uh-uh,” he could feel him smile against his neck, as a hand slowly traced over his chest, teasingly pinching a nipple through the t-shirt. 

“Boo, I don’t think you are.”

I’m not. 

“I-I’m sure…” He was playing dirty, letting his teeth graze lightly over the juncture between his neck and shoulder, making Brock involuntarily shudder in pleasure. 

José fucking knew what that shit did to him. It was one of those spots that never failed to make him horny.

But before he even had any time to enjoy it, the lips were gone and Brock’s mind cleared up. Finally letting him think for a moment. 

“I am not-“

“Shh. Best be quiet, boo, and let me talk a bit, ‘kay?” 

Walking around the chair, José dumped himself down in his lap, Brock’s arms instinctively holding his hips to both steady him and to keep some distance between him and his hard-on; though judging by the way José was smirking at him, he was too late. 

“If you can make those big blue orbs of Canada look into these tiny lil eyes and tell me that you wanna go to bed all sad and orgasm-less… then Mami, you best believe imma like Julia Roberts and runaway. But if you want these cookies? Then come get them!” he was so close, he could feel the puffs of air against his face as he spoke.

Fuck it. 

With those two words running through his mind he leaned forward and captured those soft lips. 

It wasn’t hungry or rough. It was slow and sensual. José tried to push forward, to deepen the kiss, but it made Brock pull back.

He couldn’t do that today. Not in this headspace. 

“If we do this. We do it my way, okay?” The slow and slightly confused nod was all he needed as their lips met again. 

They’d been in this position countless times. Sometimes the kisses would be filthy and biting, other times deep and hungry. 

But these were soft and slow. Filled with emotions that they were both too drunk and too scared to identify. 

It felt like coming home, while also a bit like drowning. Brock could feel himself falling, knowing that this would hurt like hell tomorrow. Knowing that he was fooling himself if he believed that his feelings were reciprocated.

“B-bed?” It was whispered, almost a sigh against his lips.

Without answering Brock got up, holding José’s hips tightly as his legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his torso. For a minute he thought about taking him against the door. 

The hot and dirty feeling of wanting it so much that a bed wasn’t needed.

But no. Not tonight. 

Tomorrow, Brock would wonder why his dunk brain had decided on this route for the night, but right now he was too busy touching, feeling, kissing and just being. 

They had danced this particular dance too many times to count. And while they might not both feel the same way anymore, their bodies went on muscle memory. 

“Brock,” 

“I know,”

As they almost fell onto the bed, their hands did the talking, quickly ridding themselves of their constricting clothes. 

Brock found the lube and started prepping José, not surprised when his fingers felt slick even before he started - of course, he had prepped beforehand. 

“Bitch! If you stay ready you ain’t got to get ready,” 

But he loved opening him up. Could spend hours upon hours of slowly pumping his fingers in and out, teasing that spot inside of him that made the world erupt into fireworks and pure unadulterated lustful sensation. 

“I love doing this to you,” as his fingers were slowly scissoring José open, his lips were taking a tour of the landscape that was José’s body. The tightness of the muscles and the pure strength in those tiny limbs always something to marvel at and worship. 

“More, I need m-more… I-” Gasps filled the room as he added one more finger.

He was ready, but Brock wasn’t. 

He wanted to take a moment and imprint this on his brain. The last time José had been laid out like this before him, they had been together. 

It had been an ordinary Tuesday and both of them didn’t know that they would break up a week after that. 

It had just… Been a Tuesday. 

So Brock needed to savour this. 

So he could keep this memory safe in his mind for when it all came crashing down. Because it would. 

He was fucking his ex. 

His ex whom he was irrevocably in love with. 

It was bound to end in a disaster. He had read that book, he knew the ending. 

“Pleeease. Now.” 

Removing his fingers from him, he quickly found a condom and put it on. 

Leaning over José, covering his body with his lean frame, he placed both arms on either side of his head. 

Despite both of them always having enjoyed playing together, being rough and less like lovers more like sexual partners, there was something to be said about the closeness in this. 

In not just having sex but making love. 

“Brock?” The questioning tone made him he realise that he had kind of stopped, just holding his body over him, his mind somewhere else. 

Fuck, he was too drunk and too emotional for this.

As he entered him he took a moment to relish the tight feel, softly kissing the soft skin at José’s neck, trying to calm his mind. Trying to be here in the now and not in the breakdown he would most definitely have in the morning. 

He started to slowly thrust, going for deeper strokes, knowing how it drove him wild to feel completely filled. 

“Shi-it. Yes, Mami,” He was gasping, his nails digging into his back, leaving red and angry marks. 

I love you. 

Brock kept his mouth busy, afraid that the alcohol in his veins would make dangerous words tumble out of his mouth. 

Words that were too scary, too real and too finale for this. 

So he kissed his way across his collarbone, careful not to leave any marks. 

He would be happy if this was forgotten. He was too raw, too much. 

“More!” The groan was coupled with a harder trust. 

The bed started squicking slightly, as Brock upped the speed, his thrusts met perfectly by José, their rhythm as easy as the beat of a heart. 

I love you. 

He captured his lips, tongues battling for space and control, it was emotional and deep. Maybe Brock would have been able to decipher what José was feeling if he hadn’t been spiralling into his own hole of emotions. 

The gasps and moans told him that he was getting closer. 

He still hadn’t looked José in the eye. He knew those eyes, he knew what they made him do and say. 

And he was too frail right now. Those eyes could make him do any and every thing. 

One last thrust and he came over both of their stomachs. 

I love you. 

He’d had a lot of sex with Brock. 

They’d had good sex, bad sex, phenomenal sex, and rough sex. They had fucked and they had made love. They were both very sexual beings, and it showed. 

But… Whatever they just did was new. It was good but bad. Rough, but loving. 

It hurt, but in the most delicious way. 

As he slowly came down from his orgasm two things became clear to him. 

One. Brock hadn’t come. 

Two. Brock hadn’t looked him in the eye, not even once, throughout the whole thing. 

“Babe? You okay?” His lips were still lightly touching José’s neck, the soft caress felt weirdly intimate. 

“Yeah, I… Yeah, you were so good,” He sounded like himself and yet also like a robot. It was creepy. 

“Boo, you need help? You didn’t come, and you know I don’t be leaving no man behind,” he tried to laugh a bit, hoping that he could coax out hisBrooke from this drunken mess of … Something. 

“I… I think the alcohol got to me, you know how it is,” finally he looked at him. His eyes seemed far away as he said it. The wrinkle between his brows told José that he was lying. 

It was his tell. 

He would have known anyway. They had fucked way drunker than right now and he had always finished.

What the fuck was going on. 

“You sure? Imma give ya a lick and suck if you ask me real nicely. Make you feel all types of good.”

“You don’t have to,”

“I know, Mary. I don’t just put any dick in ma mouth, ya know. But your Canadian bacon? I could swallow that any time, boo,” he was holding something back, and it was messing with José. 

What was going on? He thought that they had a good thing going on. The sex was amazing and this last day in London had been amazing.

It had given him some kind of hope that they might be able to get back together. 

But he seemed so withdrawn. 

“It’s fine, boo. Just had too much to drink, let’s just go to sleep.” 

Okay then.

“Bitch, we ten times of nasty up in here. Get yo ass with me in the shower, pronto like they doin’ it in Toronto, Mami!” He smiled softly at that and rolled off him, quickly disposing the condom and walking towards the bathroom. 

“Well come on then, miss vanjie vanjie vanjie, bitch!” He wasn’t completely back to being normal, but at least he was trying. 

I love that fucker way too much. 

After the shower they had fallen into bed, José spooning him, for a change. He could probably feel that Brock needed it. 

He knew that he was acting weird. He knew that José didn’t believe him when he made the excuse of being drunk. 

He knew that this was the beginning of the end. 

And it made him break. 

He was wide awake, while José slept on the other side. They had slowly drifted apart in the night, which meant that Brock was facing away from him.

A sudden movement from the other side of the bed made him try to appear as if he was sleeping. 

“Shit Vanjie… Why you gots to keep bein’ stupider than dumb, bitch,” The fact that José thought that he could whisper without waking anybody was a joke onto itself, but Brock kept on being still. 

“Okay mama, time to find me some clothes,” it was whispered as he rolled out of bed. 

He was leaving. 

Shit. 

Should he ‘wake’ up and catch him. Should he just let him go? 

He could hear him softly walking around the room, trying to find all his clothes that had been thrown everywhere. 

Tears were prickling in his eyes, he felt dumb. 

He knew this was happening, he had felt it during sex. He knew that he was just an easy lay to him. 

He was convenient because they knew each other’s tastes and needs. Knew what made each other tick.

And most importantly, they knew that they weren’t a couple. 

And never would be. 

Except.

He really wanted them to be. 

He heard José unlock the door. The sound so loud in the quiet room, it made his heart clench.

A moment passed and nothing happened. It made him hope that maybe he had reconsidered.

But then.

The soft click from the door signalled that he had left and only then did he turn around.

Only then did he let the tears fall.

Only then did he finally voice the three words that had been lodged in his throat for the last couple of weeks. 

“I love you.”

[tiny-ruby-seeds]

Such Selfish Prayers (Part 1)

Michael Langdon x Reader

Part 1/ Part 2 / Part 3

Warnings- Pale Demon!Michael Langdon (would like to think this is post “Fire & Reign” you know… When Daddy!Michael was coming into his own during that Giant Time Gap we have in his story *is not salty at all*), Demonic Stuff with the Antichrist (duh), Slight Blasphemy, Established BDSM relationship, & Roleplay (which may have some Dubcon tones as we progress just a heads up). 

Author’s note- So, it came to my attention that there are so very very few Pale Demon!Michael fics out there. As someone who loves monsters as much as she loves her pretty & badass boys I absolutely cannot allow that now in this fandom now, can I? Holler if you would like to be tagged for the other parts BTW (I’m gearing for 3 at least and this is the shortest of them all).

Oh! Little heads up… Think of this as “appetizer” chapter.  It’s all going downhill from here. 

Word Count- 4473

“This is as good a place  to fall as any...” -Florence and the Machine Bedroom Hymns

It was only after I sunk into the hot bath did I feel like I could actually breathe for the first time today. My worries and cares of the day slowly starting to melt away and drift off like the steam I could see from the water’s glass-like surface. I couldn’t stop the moan even if I tried. Today had been… Well rough probably summed it up although it still felt like an understatement.

Between having to stay an hour and a half longer after my shift ended, dealing with coworkers as well as customers on a daily basis… I was just more than thankful it was a Friday night. The weekend was mine to do what I wanted when I wanted. Things were certainly looking up that's for certain. But a small selfish part of me couldn’t help but think, Could be better...

He could be home.

I bit my bottom lip, feeling a bit horrible for thinking that, but another part of me couldn’t help but feel justified as well. I may have had a long day but my boyfriend was having a long month, and I could see it was getting to him. I could feel my heart twist as I thought of the past few nights.

Of him stumbling in later and later each night, exhausted and starving, having not eaten the whole day (he was far too driven for his own good). His curly blonde hair was always a mess from running his hands through, barely able to keep those beautiful blue eyes open, looking every inch that kicked puppy he had been when we met. I knew this was different and what happened was like a lifetime ago, but it was still like a punch to the chest every time I saw him like this. I just hated seeing him so beaten.

I sunk a little bit more into the tub, feeling my heart ache just from the thought of it and half wishing I had brought a glass of wine in the bathroom with me (I had been determined to not touch it until he came home). I took a deep breath before I sunk underwater. I didn’t want to make myself sad but I couldn’t help but think he needed a break more than I did. He always seemed to wear the world on his shoulders these days ever since that meeting…

Actually, that was a terrible bad analogy with his job (his purpose, I reminded myself) but with the pressure he was under, the pressure that they were putting on him he may as well. But I knew this was important to him and, although I wasn’t very wild on it when he first said what it was, I came to understand. Nor could I tell him “No” with how he seemed to come to life when he spoke about how things would change for us when (not if as he would say) he succeeded. It almost made those late nights, seeing him like that, worth it. 

Almost.

What did make it worth it was the words he would repeat to me when it was just us. Between the sweet nothings, and those apologies he didn’t need to say he would tell me that I was one of the only ones allowed to see him like this.

And the only one to see him in other ways, My thoughts chimed in, inner voice sounding so much like him I almost breathed in water.

I broke the surface of the bath taking a deep breath of air as that damn text of his came back to haunt me as it had been doing all day since he sent it during my morning break. I’ll see you tonight… It had read. And then he had to text me the two most tantalizing words I had heard in a while.

Play along.

I could feel myself start to ache like I had been, my thoughts running over a slew of different things as to what he was planning all of which I knew would probably be nowhere near close what he would do. Not wanting to get myself too excited too soon, I tilted my head back to lay back against the tub, I tried to think of something else. It hadn't been long since we had been together. But it had been weeks since we had been together in the way we both craved. And with the things his mind could come up with…

Okay, not helping in the “calming down” front, I thought, feeling my body start to burn. Fuck, was I so ready for it.

Or so I thought then.

I tried to distract myself as I did what I normally did in the bath alone (seriously? Calm down dirty mind.). I shaved, washed myself off, shampooed my hair, pretty much everything I could to calm myself down in the hot water because who knew how long until I would get the moment to again these next few days. It was only after going underwater to wash off the conditioner, and noticing the water was much colder than it was when I got in did I finally get out. My mind on everything and nothing. My trick of distracting myself working then as I tried to dry myself off with the towel.

It was then I felt something that caught my attention.

A slight cold breeze running up my spine that made me gasp. Goosebumps forming on still damp skin, making me shiver. I bit down the urge to chatter my teeth.

Huh?

I swung around to see that the door was partially open, not a lot but enough to let in a blast of air. I could see the darkness of the hallway beyond beckoning me forward. That’s weird, I was sure I had closed that coming in. I knew I did. So how…?

Wait, had he come home early after all? But if he did... Why hadn’t he joined me? I knew he would if he saw what I was doing. I wrapped the towel around me, tying a slight knot I knew would handle me walking around with it and strode over to the door. I pushed it open seeing nothing before me. I glanced down the hall. Nothing there either.

The sun had long set now and the hallway was dark. Pitch black even and that set off some warning bells. The plugin light we had in the socket was off and I vividly remember seeing it on earlier seeing as I clicked it on.

“Babe, you home?” I called out, not long after I winced realizing then the situation I was in.

Okay… Seriously? Now you’re becoming the worst kind of horror movie cliche, I kicked myself as I quietly stepped into the hallway and closed the door to the bathroom behind me. I listened to the beats of silence as I did, a part of me thought about getting the knife we had in our room in case... Something came up. A few more moments of silence later, I decided against it.

My mind must have been playing tricks on me. Maybe I hadn’t closed the door all the way and the AC had kicked on? Yeah, that sounds about right. I would have heard someone open it. And the bulbs for the old plugin light must have died again, it happened with those old things. I had meant to get something a bit more modern anyway. What was I doing out here, I mean other than being an idiot and scaring myself? Feeling pretty stupid, I reached for the bathroom doorknob once more when…

I heard a shuffle from down the hall.

I froze. This time I knew that it wasn’t my mind playing tricks on me. I had heard it.

Had he come home after all? If so... Why hadn’t he said anything? What was going on?

In retrospect, I’m not sure why I left the oversized shirt and my underwear there in the bathroom. I mean I should have known better. Guess I wasn’t thinking as I made the split-second decision. I started down the hall wrapped in nothing but my towel, trying to be as quiet as I could as though I were trying to sneak up on someone.

The dark stained hardwood was cool on my feet as but I padded quietly down the empty dark hall. But as I continued to the living room I could I couldn’t help but notice there was a strange change of temperature. As I got closer and closer to the living room... It was like there was a hot spot there, and it wasn't just the floor either as the air itself felt a bit warmer, heavier, like the summer air before the first clap of thunder that signaled a storm. I tried not to think anything of it, hoping it was just weird venting in an old apartment building but it wasn’t making me feel any better.

I had the gut feeling I was on the edge of something like I was on the edge of a cliff about to jump into a lake. Each step made my heart thud louder and louder in my ears. I started to kick myself as I really should be wearing clothes doing this. I should be armed. If I was watching this in a horror flick I would be screaming at myself right now. Yet, something was drawing me down the hall. Couldn’t turn back now.

Soon I found myself just before the corner to the living room. Swallowing hard, staying close to the wall I peeked around the corner.

I couldn’t see anything but an empty living room before me.

Feeling a little foolish I stepped onto the carpet and looked around in dim light. Small slots of moonlight peeking from the blinds along the wall gave the room a strange look of light and shadow but I didn’t see anything different. Nothing out of place. Maybe it had been something at the door? Something with the neighbors? Not normal but not unheard of.

I decided to go over and take a peek through the small peephole in the door. Worse came to worse I’d run back and pull something on. If it was nothing, no horror movies for me for a week at least. I had made it halfway across the room right before the small table that I sat my purse on when I came back when I stopped. My throat tightening, my heart starting to race once more. I didn’t dare move.

Someone was watching me.

I could feel it.

Instantly I swung around, and I gasped, a hand going to my mouth to stifle the start of a scream.

There in the corner, right across from where I stood I could see a shape in the armchair. A shape that certainly had not been there just a few moments ago. I could see it lounging in the darkness like it was some sort of throne.

I stepped back instinctively. Almost running into the table that had my purse.

“Well, what do we have here?” A man’s voice spoke, sounding as rich and warm as velvet yet there was a strange echo to it.

That voice, it sounded… Familiar.

It was that familiarity that glued me to the spot. Kept me from running. It couldn’t be, I thought.

He stood up fluidly, gracefully. He moved across the room like a predator that you could only see because it wanted you to see it and it was already too late then. He was a bit taller than me. I think I could make out curly hair in the darkness that parted at his forehead, almost to his shoulders but I couldn’t really tell as there wasn’t much light. But that wasn’t all, I don’t know what he was wearing but I could tell it was black. He all but blended into the darkness with it and I could barely make out his shape save for bits and pieces and… Was he wearing a cape…?

Holy shit. I thought as I realized I was right, even hidden in the dark I recognized him. What was he-? I was about to speak his name when two little words teased in my head….

Play along.

Two little words that weren’t just a little bit of teasing… 

They were a challenge.

This was a scene.

Oh sweetie…I fought back a smirk, catching on to the game. And it’s not even my birthday yet.

I slowly reached back for the purse I had on the table, slipping into the role he had cast me as. My purse wasn’t much as a weapon but if I timed it right it would be of a distraction.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting, coming to this little... Eden of yours,” He lilted, his voice made me shiver, the sound of his boots on the hardwood floor echoing in my ears in between the rapid beats of my heart.

“...But I am not disappointed in the least but what I have found.”

I was frozen, like a rabbit before the wolf. I couldn’t move, it was like something was holding me there… Something unnatural and he knew it as he drew closer.

And closer.

Closer.

I’m not sure how he could see in the darkness but I knew he could. I could feel his eyes on my bare skin, barely dry from the bath, the sensation made my cheeks burn in a way I was glad it was too dark for him to see.

All too soon he was right before me, still in cloaked in darkness with the dim ray of moonlight before me. I could smell amber, of leather, and something spicy that I couldn’t name. I could feel the warmth from him, even at this distance, even from his clothes and I was almost overcome with the need to sink into it. He wasn’t even touching me and yet something in me started to ache, begging to be touched all over by him. I almost thought about undoing the knot on the towel, letting it fall to the floor.

Almost.

Suddenly a ringed hand came from the darkness. I had to keep from gasping when I saw it. His hand was unnaturally pale in the moonlight. Veins of black and gray crossed his skin like the veins in marble. But that wasn’t all... It was like he was absorbing the light of the moon and leaving nothing but void its wake. It was unreal…

It was inhuman.

I should try to stop him when he reached for me, but I could barely move as his hand cupped my cheek, tracing under my jaw. His skin felt like a strange contradiction, rough and tough, yet smooth and soft. Maybe like a sort of leather? No… Not like that. It was hard to put into words but it felt… Good.

No, better than good.

Sinful.

His thumb started teasing my lower lip in a matter I could feel my lower belly ache. I could almost feel a ghost of that touch like an echo on my inner thigh, so close to my core … As it slowly started to heat up.

No… I told myself. Don’t you start to give in now! Besides…

We have some catching up to do now, don’t we?

“Tell me, little girl...” he said, oh he was so close now yet still in the darkness, I could feel his sweet breath tickle my lips.

“Would you follow in Eve’s footsteps and eat the fruit from the forbidden tree?”

I knew what he was doing then and there. This was the real challenge. That snapped my brain awake from the haze he had tried to put over me. Looking up to the outline of a ghostly face before me, still in darkness. He was so close now, close enough that I could reach over and touch his face if I wanted. Or…

I gripped the purse behind my back tightly as I thought of an answer.

Oh, sweetheart, I’m not going to give in that easy.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Serpent?” I replied in a sing-song tone.

That got his attention. He paused, and that was enough for me to swing the purse it at him from behind my back. He quickly let go of my chin as though to catch it just as it arched to his face.  I could hear a clap of leather nonetheless against the skin of the back of his hand as he blocked it. I could swear I heard a low hiss from him but I sure as hell wasn’t going to stick around and fucking watch.

I took the opening, letting go of the purse and taking off down the hall. I could feel the wind as he tried to snatch after me but he just missed and I could hear him growl after me. I wasn’t stupid to think he wasn’t pissed.

I’m so screwed if he catches me, The words rang in my head, repeating with every step I took.

I couldn’t hear him behind me but I knew it wouldn’t be that way for long. If he was what I think he was…

I could feel a thrill thudding through my veins as I ran past the still lit bathroom to the bedroom. Bursting into the room before slamming the door shut locking it as fast as I could. I could swear the metallic click echoed down the hall and off the bedroom walls.

Frantically, I looked around the room. Not really noticing the lit candles that I most certainly didn’t light before going into the bath as I had a few other things on my mind. The only thing that was running through my head was a circle he had told me about once. It was supposed to help protect from evil. It wouldn’t be much but it would be enough to buy myself some time.

Cause if he gets in here… Oooh boy.

I had to fight back that giddy feeling as I ran to the darkly stained armoire in the corner of the room. Pulling open the doors, ignoring everything else save for four the strange black candles and candlesticks that I grabbed right away along with the matchbook nearby. Quickly I went to the center of the room, setting the candles on the floor in the four cardinal directions (or I hoped where the four anyway). I started striking a match and went to light one of them when I heard a sound that made me drop the lit match to the wood floor.

Footsteps walking down the hall outside the door.

I had to fight back the urge to start shaking as I picked up the match off the floor, lucky it hadn’t scorched the wood before lighting the candle saying a few words I could think of for the spirits of the North.

“... Hail guardians, I ask your protection.”

I quickly tried to light all of the others as I could hear those footsteps get louder and louder. I had just lit the last one when I heard the doorknob start to rattle making me almost jump even though I had expected it.

I racked my brain, trying to remember what he had told me about this circle and almost cursed.

The elements, I thought kicking myself.

To strengthen the circle I would need the protection of four elements, therefore... Something to represent them. Not exactly something I had in my back pocket and I don’t think we had anything like that here. I was about to prepare myself for hell when was then something else he said came to me.

Blood, He said blood was powerful enough to call upon them...

Oh hell, I thought as the rattling was getting even more insistent. Why does it always have to be blood?

I shook my head, no time to get squeamish now. I ran back to the armoire and grabbed the black handled knife that laid on the altar inside, before closing the door once more running back to the center of the circle of candles. The flames of the candles flickering, and almost dancing in the dark. I raised the sharp edge of the blade to the back of my hand, where it wouldn’t hurt too bad if I were to cut when suddenly the rattling of the doorknob... 

Stopped.

Silence rang in my ears now. I lowered the blade as I looked to the door, tilting my head. Did he give up? I thought, letting myself drop character for a moment. I didn’t have a chance to feel any trace of disappointment when I noticed the candles in the room…

There were all starting to burn low.

Flames so low it was almost like they were about to go out even on fully tapered candles. The air in the room felt heavy, heavier than in the living room, and unnaturally.  As though the room itself was holding its breath in preparation for what would happen next. And then suddenly…

CLACK!

The stark violent sound of the lock breaking, metal snapping, and giving, made me gasp. The now useless doorknob turned and slowly...

The door started to open.  

As it did, I raised the knife before me. No point in trying to strengthen the circle now. Feeling the anticipation in me build as the door swung open wider and wider, the creaky hinge the only sound in the apartment.

I braced myself as the door finally opened…

Only to be greeted by the stark darkness of the hallway.

What? I thought, taken off guard for a moment. I licked my lips to wet them as I stepped forward, staying in my weak little circle. Still, I couldn’t see anything. No figure, no shape. Nothing. Where had-?  

Suddenly every fiber of my being, every shred of my soul screamed...

Behind you!

I barely had time to swing around to see him standing there when the flames of the candles that made up my makeshift circle suddenly blazing brighter than torches. I cried out, raising an arm to try to shield my eyes. The sudden light blinding me a bit, purple and blue spots appearing on the edge of my vision. As I did the knife was torn from my hand, I could hear it clatter on the wood in some far corner of the room. Nor could I tell which one as suddenly the door slam shut behind me.   

“Did you really think a stupid lock, a weak circle, and a little knife was going to stop me?” I could hear that familiar voice before me say, I swore I could hear him smiling.

Before I could say anything, do anything, I was jerked forward as though a puppet on invisible strings. My arms were forced outstretched like I was on some invisible cross. I tried to fight it but it was like iron had settled in my bones. I turned to the figure about to say something when suddenly my heart skipped a beat.

I could see him clearly now, no shadows hid his face yet something about him still seemed to draw the light from the room. His face was like that of a Botticelli painting with full lips, a jawline that would make anyone’s mouth water from the thought of running along it, and chiseled features framed by curly ginger golden blonde hair. But that was where the human features ended and the others began...

His skin was… Pale. Paler than death. Paler than marble, veined and cracked with black like the darkness in him could just barely be contained. But it was his eyes that made my heart stop. There was nothing human about those coal black depths, darker than the pits of the earth. Seeing them… confirmed what I had thought.

He was a demon.

I felt my heart skip a beat for a reason I couldn’t let myself think of just yet as he stepped forward into the half-drawn circle, towards me. I could feel a shudder as I felt what little magic the circle have flicker and die. Yet he continued forward until he was towering before me.

One of those pale ringed hands raised up. I braced myself waiting for the other shoe to drop as he pushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen over my shoulder. I could swear he lingered on the still damp strands before his fingers raised up to oh so gently traced down my cheek. I couldn't see pupils in those eyes but I could tell he was looking at me carefully. I knew what he was looking for and dared to smile despite myself.

You wanted me to play along, didn’t you? Let’s see what games you have for me.

“Oh, I don’t know… You seem really determined to stay out of my weak little circle until just a few moments ago,” I said with a smirk. “What’s wrong? Is the big bad demon afraid of little me?”

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting that slow wicked smirk to cross his face that smirk that made my heart skip a beat.

I had the feeling he found the response he was going for.

"Fiery little thing aren't you?" The demon said a terrible smile crossing his face. 

“I wonder how much of that you’ll have in you when we’re done...”

For @lovelykhaleesiii , @langdonsdemon , @lvngdvns ,@wroteclassicaly, @katiekitty261, @hxdesworld & @tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning

[austennerdita2533]

A/N: This is one of many Jaime-and-Brienne-Battle-of-Winterfell ideas that has been nagging me since the trailer, so here we are! After I rewrote it like 8 times. 

(A03)

Shout out to @childoftimeandmagic for being a precious peach ALWAYS and for being there for me extra hardcore lately. Also bless you for putting up with all my GoT/Braime mania haha. Thanks for being such a fantastic friend, K! (You don’t have to read this, btw. Just used the platform as an excuse to shower you with love--’cause you deserve it. ;) 💗) 

xx Ashlee Bree

Just As Everything’s Headin’ For Catastrophe

Orange air hung over them like a shroud of smoke. As did darkness, flecked in an ashy white.

With the sky a brutal purple, and the night blacker than oil despite the torchlight which burned defiantly from every post, it was easy to sense the threat. To know what dangers would spring forth from the snowdrifts soon—not to mention who.

Jaime’s head pounded at the thought. A sinister dread curled into the fur he tightened around his shoulders. Ice kissed goosebumps against the back of his exposed neck while a sense of foreboding licked across all those sensitive places where the shadows liked to slip in and freeze. Rot. All of this a bodily reaction to the unnaturalness that was nearing on the plains beyond Winterfell.

An undead army marched forward in the distance - it was marching - and with the night at its back, everything whistled and whipped from a white-black abyss; the ground crunching grotesquely beneath feet that left no tracks.

In the meantime, dragon wings could be heard flapping high above the living while direwolf growls echoed loud, then menacingly low, against the stones near the crypts. Fire crackled at the tips of archers’ bows. Steel and iron was hidden securely in sheaths and waited to clang. Strike. Slash. Scream. Warriors flanked every fragile or defenseless crevasse they could find because they were yearning to slice down this innumerable foe in beheaded verse after beheaded verse if they could, if it would keep their eyes clear of that frosty blue for one more day. One more moment.

How long could they manage it with so many odds stacked against them? That was the question.

Coming and coming, the enemy gathered. Hundreds of thousands of Others…

Still coming.

The wind picked up as Jaime held his forces in position on the southern side of the fortress, swords and dragon glass at the ready. The gusts were sharp at first, then more and more cutting as they clawed red into cheeks and slashed across northern armor like a serrated knife. Their collective breath stalled in knots as a hush rocked between the trees with a chill waiting to scratch, with cold hoping to choke out the world’s remaining light with its spindled branches and rough bark torsos and ice.

When would it start, Jaime wondered? How would it all end?

He tasted the doom this night brought with it in the clatter of his teeth, in that prickle which fired a warning into his phantom hand then slunk down his spine to sting his toes because he knew this could be it. Oh yes, it could be. A dance with death none of them would forget. A fight the living might not fucking win.

Quiet became bloated. Impregnable. Like a somber song that’d frozen inside of a riverbed.

Jaime’s pulse was a sour thump thump in the base of his throat as he turned toward Brienne for what could turn out to be the last time, alive, and shivered. He hated how rank everything smelled. He loathed how desolate and ominously gray the clouds appeared overhead, only to feel them grow thicker and thicker the closer the dead tread.

Catching her gaze, desperate for another reprieve in case one more was all the gods would give him while they still stood shoulder-to-shoulder like this, mostly whole and unbloodied, united in a way they’d never been before, Jaime smiled in that resigned ‘I’m not the fighter I once was’ way she hated.

He knew she hated it because it made her mouth pinch into a stubborn frown. (A reflex if he ever saw one.) Then her hand tightened around Oathkeeper until her knuckles whitened and she stood taller.

The shift in her stance spoke volumes. Loyalty was there, undeserved and unbidden, while resolve dragged up the rear in gentle clenches: with fear a dull, creeping thumping thing she could no longer conceal from him. Not here.

“I’ll see you when the fighting’s over, Brienne,” he said just as the first war horns sounded.

“Gods willing,” was her solemn reply.

“Oh, hang the gods,” jaw taut, Jaime’s voice was thinner than a razor’s edge, “I said I will. Don’t mistake what I meant.”

Flanking his right side, she arched a brow in his direction almost as if half in challenge and half in chastisement. “Are those words ordained truth or pure wind, ser? You know how much stock I place in oaths,” she said almost mournfully, then sighed.

“Shall I swear it? Would you prefer that of me instead?”

“I don’t…” She looked pained and puzzled. Uncertain. “Why—” she licked her chapped lips and swallowed hard, unable to hide the slight wobble of her chin. “Only a fool would say such things at a time like this, you realize?” she said.

Shrugging, “Best promise me a kiss quick then.”

“A…a what?” Brienne sputtered back at him. She took a step away, visibly frazzled, and almost collided into Podrick behind them until Jaime steadied her again, jerking her near enough so they could continue to whisper. Not that he cared a whit who did or did not listen. He was not ashamed of anything he said.

“A kiss, wench. Also known as the meeting of lips?”

“I know what a kiss is, thank you,” she scowled, colouring terribly.

“Good. Then you won’t need a vocabulary lesson after I ask for you to save me one. So?” he said with levity giving way to sincerity now as the walls started to breach and their muscles tensed. “Will you?”

They reached for their scabbards.

“Save—I…what?” she blanched.

“Tis a humble request, really,” Jaime replied in wry earnest, smirking. “I hope you’ll oblige.”

Tension flamed between them at that. So did silence, Brienne’s startled blush, and about a million other unresolved things.

But Jaime didn’t care about any of that so long as he could hold onto the blazing blue glimmer he found floating in her eyes at this precipice of hell—the warmth there— all the soft strength that swam in her pupil’d depths and demanded for him to defend…to attack….to live…even though she hadn’t voiced it out loud yet and probably wouldn’t before the White Walkers descended. He couldn’t seem to force those words out of his mouth, either. He knew he couldn’t. Though he sure as hell felt them.

They each seemed to suffer alike in that respect.

“To be fair, one kiss is a bargain price for a man like me.”

Unimpressed, Brienne huffed. “And why’s that?”

Deflecting, “Call it an incentive for after the war is won,” Jaime said with a wave of his golden hand. “You wouldn’t deny me that, surely?”

His expression was teasing and hopeful, perhaps even a little curious and intense in the seconds before he plunged Widow’s Wail into its first wight scout. The thing shattered like glass with a single thrust.

Though Brienne had already turned away to disband of some ice spiders herself, the bastards scuttling up over the castle walls like a herd of insects the size of horses, she seemed disinclined to answer him regardless, the side of her face flushing a deep red. The stiff set of her shoulders coupled with the cock of her head implied she took his words as no more than a jest. A cruel jape.

With her being as stubborn and as skeptical as all seven hells, of course she didn’t believe him. What the hell did he expect?

“Upon my honor as a Lannister, I fully intend to collect that kiss, you know,” Jaime added over his shoulder. “I vow it.”

His tone was frank and serious as their eyes locked over the fray again. It was a brief interlude before everything broke into chaos and the seconds that followed either would need to be won with courage, or lost with sacrifice.

“In that case, I suggest you put your sword where your mouth is, ser.” At that, Brienne severed a wight in half at her feet when it clamored over the battlements and tried to lunge between them. “Show me you mean it,” she said.

“Fight…” Her lips half smiled down at him as her sword arm swung out in defense. “Deflect…” Her eyes shined fiercely and luminously despite the blizzard of embers thickening around them. The screeching started to grow so loud it would’ve been a blessing to be deaf. “Protect…”

An urgency sprang into Brienne’s blows against the wights then, in her kicks amid all that swirling madness and blood, with the blade she wielded glowing like a talisman between them so as to keep the other from falling straight into winter’s stilled doom. Until that moment, she never looked more like a knight. She never moved so smooth or quick, either.

“Best them all, Jaime. Best them until dawn crests—” she commanded harder than a punch to the gut, the plea in her voice puncturing the night. “Live.”

So he did.

[sml8180]

Shot at Redemption - 05

A/N: It’s kinda funny that today is the 1 year anniversary of Far Cry 5′s release, and this chapter is called “Time”. I didn’t plan it that way, but, hey, it works. This community is amazing, and even though it hasn’t been long since I actually became active in this fandom, I can say that these last few weeks where I’ve been active and posting about it have been some of the most fun I’ve had. Also, btw, this chapter is really long (like, 8 pages in Google Docs long), so enjoy that-

Taglist/Shoutouts to some fabulous FC5 friends: @deputyoneill @johnseedthot @deputyshitlordsantana @jacobsmusicbox @farcrying5 @johnseedsplane @rookieseed

Time

Reading Joseph’s book quickly became a part of Rose’s routine, just as going down to the river had. She would wake up in the mornings, have a cup of coffee and read a few pages of the book while she listened to Joseph over her radio, before going down to the river to fish. A couple of weeks went by, and she had really settled in around Hope County. She actually enjoyed how much the area reminded her of Lincoln, and it didn’t have any of the things she’d hated about the little town she grew up in. Her parents weren’t there, her reputation didn’t exist here, she could be on her own.

Rose was coming back early from the river, carrying a fresh catch. She’d gotten lucky and caught a good sized fish after only a couple of casts, and so had some spare time, now. As she walked up the path to the cabin, she hummed to herself. The music that played on the station John had given her to listen to was honestly fairly decent, and she found herself humming a few of the songs while fishing or doing things around the cabin. Though she still wasn’t sure about God’s existence, or Joseph’s Project in general, their music was still good. Her humming stopped when she got within sight of the cabin, though. Sitting on the chair out on the porch was a stranger she hadn’t seen. He was of a strong build, tall, with bright red hair and a beard, wearing an army jacket and plain T-shirt. As she got closer, Rose spotted her backpack by the man’s feet. She really needed to find a way to keep people out of her damn cabin. She came closer, muscles tense as she tried to think of what to do. Her hands were full and she wasn’t about to drop what she had and risk losing or damaging things.

“Random person on my porch, what d’ya want?” She called to the man as she approached, getting to the steps. He looked up from fidgeting with the large knife he had in his hands. The man stood, tucking the knife away and picking up Rose’s backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as she came up the porch steps.

“To take a little pup back to the compound,” his voice was a bit quiet, and a little quiet, as if he didn’t use it often.

“What the hell? I don’t have to go anywhere with you, put my shit down,” Rose wasn’t amused. This had to be some kind of sick joke, because this wasn’t something that should be normal. Given, John had broken in and been reading off her arrest record one time, so normal was likely out the window once she got to Hope County.

“Joseph wants you at the compound, pup. You don’t have much of a choice.” As he spoke, the red-haired man took a few steps closer to Rose. She’d gotten onto the porch, setting her things by the cabinet that was by the steps. Before she knew what was happening, the tall man had grabbed her arm and was attempting to head her to a truck she hadn’t noticed at first. The woman resisted his grip, using her free arm to pull herself close to the railing to try to hold her ground.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, let go!” Rose pulled at her arm, her feet trying to find purchase on the wooden porch. The tall man’s grip loosened up, but before she could really do anything, Rose felt herself being lifted into the air. “Put me down!” Her protests fell on deaf ears, and she resorted to taking a few swings at the man, one hard punch connected with his shoulder, a kick landed at his hip, and another punch met by his eye. The last strike earned a curse from the man, and left a scratch, and would likely result in a black eye. Still, though, he didn’t let go of her slim frame; he simply hefted her over his shoulder as she punched at his back, shouting at him to put her down.

“Fighting me’s not gonna get you anywhere, girl,” was all he said in his quiet voice as he put her down for a moment, keeping her cornered with his bulky frame as he took out a set of zip-ties and restrained her hands. He got her into the truck, throwing her bag into the bed, before getting into the driver’s seat. Without another word, he got them on the road and drove to the compound.

The ride was silent, aside from the sound of the truck’s engine. Whoever Rose’s captor was, he didn’t have the radio going, he didn’t hum like Joseph did when it was silent, and he wasn’t a talker like John. She didn’t break the silence, herself, though it unnerved her. Silence, in her experience, was almost never a good thing. But, there wasn’t much she could do about this silence, not with her hands behind her back. So, Rose simply took to watching the scenery pass by outside the truck window as the red-haired stranger drove. Eventually, Rose recognized a familiar sight out the window; a group of small white outbuildings, surrounded by fencing, all around a small white church. As the man pulled the truck in, Rose took in the compound for only the second time. This time, though, she wouldn’t have the chance to leave as quickly as she had when she’d first arrived. The truck was stopped, and the driver got out, grabbing Rose’s backpack from the bed and opened her door, pulling her out and once again settling her over his shoulder and carrying her towards the small church.

Inside, the church was simple, with a few rows of pews and a few chairs at the back. Rose couldn’t see what was at the front of the space until she was put down, pushed to her knees as a strong hand held her there. Her bag was set on one of the front pews, and she took in the space before her. There was a small platform in front of her, with a pulpit atop it, but what drew her eye was above all that. The window in the wall before her was shaped just like the pattern she’d seen all over the compound, the same cross that was on the front cover of the book John had given her. After attempting to stand, only to be firmly held in place, Rose simply remained kneeling, attempting to slip her hands out of their restraints. Several long, silent moments passed, before she heard steps behind her. She tried to turn to see who was approaching, but the man holding her in place prevented it.

“Why is she restrained?” Joseph’s voice was as calm as it ever was as he spoke. “And what happened to your eye?”

“The pup’s a little spitfire. Put up a fight when I went to get her,” came her abductor’s hoarse voice.

“You grabbed me after you’d been sitting on my porch waiting for me like a creep!” Rose protested, turning her head to try to direct her voice to the redhead. “What the fuck did you expect?!”

“Cut her ties, Jacob.” Joseph’s voice was firm as he addressed the other male in the room. So this was the third brother? Things made a bit more sense, now.

With a moment of hesitation, Jacob sighed, pulling out his knife and making quick work of cutting the heavy plastic that restrained Rose. She brought her hands in front of her after he let go of them, pulling the cut plastic from her wrists. The skin was raw, and her pulling had caused the plastic to dig in and cut into her wrists, making them bleed. They would need to be wrapped up when she got the chance. Rose didn’t bother to turn towards the heavy footsteps that walked away from her, stopping somewhere at the back of the church. With her head down, Rose could see Joseph’s feet come into view, and stop in front of her. There was nothing but silence for a few moments, before Joseph finally spoke up.

“Look at me,” his voice was calm, almost as if he were speaking to an upset child. Despite her curiosity, though, Rose refused to play along with him. He urged her again, “Look at me, Rose.” Still, she refused to look up at him. “I won’t ask again, child. Look at me.” The Father’s tone was far more serious, now, more demanding. But, Rose held her ground, refusing to turn her gaze up towards him. Joseph went silent for a moment, and Jacob’s steps came towards her again. The man knelt behind her, and she cursed as she felt a tug on her ponytail, forcing her to look up towards his younger brother.

“I’d listen if I were you, pup,” Jacob’s voice was even more rough in her ear, and his grip on her hair was tight. He was leaning over her, his face not far from her own. Without a second thought, and without a word, Rose spat at the larger man, glaring at him the entire time. Jacob glared back, using his free hand to wipe the spit from his cheek, “You little-”

“Do not stoop to her level, Jacob,” Joseph cut his brother off. Jacob took a breath, glaring at Rose before settling more behind her, keeping a tight grip on her hair to force her to look up at Joseph. “Doing so will only feed her behavior.”

Rose looked up at Joseph, glaring at him. A tense silence fell between them, before Joseph set a hand on Jacob’s shoulder. She felt the harsh grip on her hair vanish, and heard Jacob step away. In place of the painful grip on her hair, Rose felt a more gentle hand on her. Joseph was gripping her jaw, firm but not harsh. It was just enough to keep her head in place, as her eyes met his behind those tinted aviators he wore. Now that she was actually looking at the man, Rose noticed that Joseph wasn’t wearing a shirt as he knelt in front of her. His torso was bare, and her eyes roamed over the various tattoos she could see, before she took note of his scars. There were scars all over his torso, most from various cuts, but a number of them were clearly intentional, as they formed letters that spelled out several of what she remembered to be the seven deadly sins. She could see “Sloth” by his right shoulder, “Greed” on his upper arm, and “Lust” on his lower abdomen.

“John said that you agreed to join us,” he finally said, his eyes never leaving her own.

“Yeah, to save my own ass. I’m not about to get arrested because some smug bastard decided to use my record against me,” Rose practically spat her response. John had broken in and threatened to turn her in if she didn’t join up with them. It wasn’t exactly something she could refuse.

“So much anger in you, so much wrath,” Joseph mused. He didn’t let go of her chin as he observed her reaction. “That isn’t all that’s there, though. I know it. Nobody only suffers from just one sin plaguing their soul. Tell me, Rose, what else is there?”

“I don’t have to tell you shit,” she spat in response. She could hear her father’s voice in the back of her head, repeating “Wrath, Pride, Greed”, echoing still after years away from him. Those three sins, the three vices her father had always seen in her, always brought up every time she got into trouble. Those words would follow her until her dying day.

“Well,” a third male voice came to her ears. It was John, entering through the doors of the small church and walking towards Joseph and herself. “I see greed in her. Joining only to keep from being arrested. Thinking only of herself in that moment.” His voice was as smooth as ever as he came closer, standing over her kneeling form. “And judging by her records, pride wouldn’t be a bad guess, either.”

“Shut up, Blue,” Rose spat the words, pulling her jaw from Joseph’s grasp to look up towards the youngest Seed.

A harsher grip came to her chin, forcing her head back towards Joseph. He took a deep breath, keeping a tight grasp on the female’s chin as he looked her over. John didn’t respond to her comment, as he simply took a seat in one of the front row pews, watching with a smirk.

“Her attitude certainly needs work, just as you said, John,” Joseph mused absently as he held Rose’s chin. “We will have her compliant, soon enough.”

Jacob stood from his seat further back, “I can get Faith, she could give her a dose of Bliss,” he offered. Joseph shook his head.

“No. Faith has been failing to follow my wishes when it comes to her methods with Bliss,” he stated. “From now on, Bliss will only be used as a last resort, and only for those who cannot be saved in any other way.” He stood up, finally letting go of Rose’s chin, and placing his hand instead on the top of her head, keeping her from getting up. “I want you to take her, Jacob. See what you can do.”

“What, I don’t get a say in this shit?” Rose questioned, as Joseph’s hand left her head and she felt Jacob’s hand on her arm, trying to pull her to stand.

“That’s right. Now get your ass up,” Jacob responded, pulling at her arm. Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to fight off all three of them if she caused a scene, Rose reluctantly stood up. Jacob lead her by the arm out of the small church, and back to the truck. She walked with him, but didn’t go as calmly as he would’ve liked, still pulling and refusing to keep up. He got her to the truck, opening the passenger side door. Before she could get in, though, he pulled out another set of zip-ties and once again restrained her arms behind her back, before pulling out a strip of heavy fabric and tying it over her eyes to keep her from seeing where she was being taken. “I don’t want a word out of you, pup. Not a word, understand?” He got a mere nod in response, and hummed his approval, hefting Rose’s small frame into the truck and closing the door. Rose could hear him get into the driver’s seat and start the engine, and felt as they started to move, having no idea where the Soldier was taking her. They drove for what felt like ages, until Rose eventually nodded off, unable to keep herself awake, despite the situation.

When Rose awoke, she found herself in a dim room, tied to a chair as she faced a blank sheet tacked up to the wall. The only light source was a projector not far from her, casting various images onto the sheet as Jacob spoke. Her mind was foggy, and she wasn’t paying full attention as she pulled at her restraints. After some time, she heard music, like one would hear from a music box, as Jacob stepped into view. The next thing she knew, she was out like a light.

The next time Rose remembered waking up, she was locked in a cage, laying on the ground, with every muscle in her body protesting as she tried to sit up. She was sore, bruised, and almost painfully hungry, but she wasn’t going to show it. Now sitting up, she could look around. There were other cages around her, some with people inside them, some empty, but she didn’t pay much mind to them. Jacob was seated on a folding chair not far from the bars of her cage, and she looked up at him, ignoring that he was eating something.

“Well, look who’s finally up again,” he observed, looking directly at her. “Looking pretty rough, there, pup.” Jacob was smirking, now, as if he were amused by her battered state.

“I’ve taken worse, Army Boy. It’ll take a lot more than this to break me.” It took more effort than Rose had expected to sound confident. She hoped he didn’t notice, but when he gave her a smirk, she knew he’d seen right through her.

“Oh? So that must mean you’re not hungry, then,” he taunted, bringing a bite of what he was eating close enough to the bars for her to grab if she just reached for it. Rose glared at him, her eyes fixed on his blue ones, as she clenched her fists, resisting the strong urge to reach through the bars and grab the food. The man smirked, pulling the food away from the cage and making a show of himself putting the bite into his mouth. “Seems not. You’re a stubborn one, pup, but I’ll get through. I swear it, even if it takes another week.” With that, he got up from his seat, winding a music box as he did. It began to play when he opened it up, and once again, Rose’s world went dark.

The cycle repeated, Rose waking up in the same dim room, restrained, watching slides go by on the wall. That damn song played again, she was out like a light, and woke up again in her cage. By now, she could hardly think about anything. Her body ached, she was dehydrated, having been given just enough water to keep her from dying, and she was painfully hungry, having been given hardly any food for what she could only assume was two weeks, now. Rose forced her body up until she was sitting on the ground, and she looked up to Jacob, who was once again sitting outside the cage, eating.

“All you have to do is give in, pup,” there was an amused tone just coming through in his voice. As he spoke, Joseph strode into view. He was wearing a shirt, this time, along with a vest that matched the jacket he’d been wearing when Rose had first met him. The Father stood to the side, silent, simply watching her and Jacob. The older Seed repeated his motions from the previous week, bringing a bite of his food close enough for Rose to reach should she choose to. “All you need to do is take it. Show that you’ll bend for us, pup. If you do that, we’ll let you out.” This time, Rose couldn’t deny it, she was too hungry and too weak. She tried to reach for the fork Jacob held towards the bars, but he pulled it back from her reach, earning a few quiet curses from Rose.

Joseph stepped forward, now, taking the fork from his brother and kneeling by the bars of the cage. Rose looked at him, exhausted, sore, and starving. “No hands, Rose. Come closer, and I will feed you,” his words were calm, almost comforting after she had heard nothing but Jacob’s rough voice and harsh words for two weeks straight. Rose hesitated for a moment, before finally pulling herself towards the bars as Joseph offered the fork to her. When she was close enough, Rose opened her mouth, and Joseph brought the fork to her, letting her take the bite off and pulling it away as she chewed and swallowed the first food she’d had in days.

“What do you say to the Father, pup?” Jacob questioned, watching her.

Rose took a moment to respond, having to force her voice to work. “Th- Thank you…” she said, her voice hoarse and weak.

“Thank you, what?” Jacob urged. She knew what he wanted, and she didn’t want to say it. After she said nothing, he spoke again. “Maybe you need a bit more time, then.”

The thought of more time having to endure this seemed like a nightmare to Rose. After a short moment, she forced herself to speak again, looking at Joseph with tired eyes. “Thank you, Father…”

Joseph reached through the bars of the cage, his left hand, wrapped in a rosary, gripped her own as they shook, while his right came to the side of her head, his thumb lightly stroking her temple. “You are welcome, my child.” After he held her hand for a moment longer, Joseph stood, looking to his older brother. “You see, Jacob? All she needed was a bit of time.” Following the Father’s statement, Rose couldn’t keep herself together any longer. She lowered herself to lay on the dirt floor of the cage, and let herself slip into darkness once more, her exhaustion becoming too much for her to take.

[icharchivist]

Kind of a weird curiosity. But I remembers years ago when there was talk over what it'd be like if Allen had been a girl instead (I even read a girl!Allen fic about her time with Cross. It was surprisngly good. Probably because it had no shipping =p). For some reason I just start thinking about that topic again and I wonder how Allen and Lavi's dynamic would be? For the most part I don't see most of Allen's dynamics changing at all (except more (more) fanboys. Lol). But then I remembered Lavi -

2 and I think it's been pointed out Lavi treats females a bit differently. He doesn't seem to prank or tease them as much as the males (not that he's the perfect gentleman either. Komui Talks makes me wonder how innocent he actually is XD). Nor give them nicknames. With this is mind I wonder if Lavi would still act the exact same (chaotic prankster. Touchy feely physically. Retaliating over rough housing) or if he'd tone some things down but do other things more (maybe try to be more like a -

3 big brother initially if he kinda of bases off from Lenalee and Komui, w/o the complex, to get closer to a female Allen?). Lol, Idk. This is kind of more of a Lavi meta question since it's been stated Allen's relationship is utterly crucial to Lavi's character. Again, I'd be curious if a dynamic w/girl Allen would be slightly different or the exact same (in a you're an exception. And people bop him more because 'stop picking on a sweet girl' while Allen cackles menacingly from behind).

Oh my this is... interesting to think about.

I think it’s fair to start with... the fact that Allen was originally a girl. Or more- when Hoshino pinched the idea to Shounen Jump she made a one shot with a main character called Robin. Here you can find it. And Robin... was an akuma. A girl in a boy’s body. Long story short, you can read the one shot if you hadn’t yet - but ye that was originally the character we were going with.It’s to argue that it would make a point for Robin planned as a transwoman in those instances.

According to the Gray Arc however, when the series became serialized, her editors were against the idea, because “No one would care if a girl would be crying”. That’s litterally word for word the reasoning. So Hoshino had to scrap it.

and she mentions quickly that it was one of the reasons she had no idea what to do with Allen to start with. He kinda started with him being a revamp of her character. (What I admire a lot with Hoshino is how much Her Vision can be affected by little things? Like how Lenalee became an entiere different person in her head the moment her editors forced her to have her with long hair.)

There’s also the elephant in the room that considering the timeperiod it was originally written. DGM was originally published with some big name shounen, Shounen Jump had some control over some choices, would react to fan backlashes (Lenalee being forced to have her hair long again is among those btw) ect... I mean like I think people may take for granted that for instance, the Alma arc was a complete anomaly when it came out in 2009/2010. That it had like. Major effects on fanbases. I’ve seen so much dudebros yell at this arc while i was thriving my friend. And tbh before the Alma arc DGM was often lurped in the “basic Shounen” category. A lot of people argued about the tropes it had to follow or not, and if this sort of things had any impact on the writting of the manga earlier? I can see how things wouldn’t go smoothly.(The Alma arc rooted out all the bad dudebros i’ve known of though. I don’t even care what people’s reaction nowadays are to it, to me back then, from the experience i got from fandom, it was revolutionary when it came out.)

I’ve stired away sorry, but Lenalee also works better, bc I know Hoshino fought for the Alma’s arc and that her editors didn’t agree with the direction she was taking. But if you read some of the interviews of the Grey Arc specifically, you see that Hoshino was constantly told how to rewrite Lenalee to fit a male audience sort of. Her editor pushed her to have long hair bc “that’s the kind of idol he found cute”, there was a complete backlash when Hoshino managed to cut her hair, the fans supported the editors, Hoshino talks all about it with such a bummer because “her Lenalee” had short hair. (also during that specific interview her editor calls her a moron. Later on she got called very annoying for sassing her editors after they called her dumb when she had a writter block writting the 14th song, and she sassed them asking for help going “since you’re far more intelligent than me-”. And the editor failled hard, Hoshino didn’t even use his writting, and the editor insulted her for being bossy. Needless to say I’ve since then been filled with anger with how the early days of DGM must have been hard on Hoshino).

I’m forced to make this preface because I truly think it would have affected Allen’s writting had he been a woman. 

If i’m optimistic i would like to think that nothing much would change because Allen’s writting kinda transend genders. But If i’m realistic i know it wouldn’t have happened.

As for Lavi specifically (wouh 7 paragraphs in and i’m finally touching the point of this post) the thing is that he also has a soft spot for women. (I mean i personally would argue he describes Dug as “cute” far too much in his novel to be 100% straight but he at least show his attraction to women more easily in the manga). 

And ye he does tend to treat the women differently but he also doesn’t... have a lot of women to be around to. I mean Lenalee whom he respects (and can be worried Komui will kill him if he tries anything), Miranda that he kinda met at the wrong time? He was always so overly serious around her because he was griefing and we didn’t see him with her at all since he got better. Aside then from his occasional crushes, that he does let himself feel, he didn’t really have an opportunity to spend more time with those women.

My point is just that the women he had met don’t help us set up a patern about how he treats them more casually: in term of pranks for exemple. Like in the day-by-day, we only have Lenalee and Miranda, and pranking Lenalee would be really putting a target on him to be murdered by Komui, while I would argue that Miranda’s anxiety (and the circumstances in which Lavi met her) would make him go softer on her. It doesn’t mean we know for sure he wouldn’t tease a woman in his peer surrounding in others circumstances.

I would love to think he would make an exception for Allen if only because of the timing: He was still handling Dug’s recent death and I think even if Allen was a woman the parallelisms would be there for him to be bitter. 

I want to think that because of that Lavi would still have teased Allen normally like he teases guys. But it’s not impossible that he would have treated Allen differently.

I think eventually like... If Lavi recognizes his soft spot for women (that it is with his strikes and whatever) he might actually be more ready to keep a guard up around them? Like I personally think he has a major soft spot for Lenalee but it took eventually Allen shaking everything up for him to acknowledge this soft spot. That he would have otherwise just protected himself against.

That, the reason our Allen was so effective was that Lavi really, really didn’t expect anything like that. and I think expectations would have been his doom, and I am inclined to think if allen had been a woman, he would have had some expecations.

Regardless: The major plot points that changed Lavi’s mind on Allen were emotionally driven and would still have had the same impact had Allen be a girl, i’m convinced of that. 

So it’s only on how he would treat that Allen more casually. And tbh... considering how vicious Allen can be, I feel like if Lavi treated her “more softly”, Allen’s reactions would probably have ended up with Lavi going “nevermind she’s a prick” and tease her just like he teases our Allen. I mean just taking the Vampire’s arc, with a whole joke about when Allen got bitten and that Lavi was lowkey scared because of that that Allen would turn into a vampire- in the term of, Allen being a danger to him. And Allen therefore sassing him because Lavi was being a moron. I don’t see how the gender would have changed anything, and if Lavi did treat Allen softly “as a girl”, I think this sort of things would have stopped him dead in his track as in “ye no she’s a PRINK where is my sharpy i’m gonna draw on her face.”

But that’s wishful thinking. I honestly don’t know and I think a lot of this post is more how i’m tryng to reason it. 

I’m sure more people would be more able to pinpoint exactly the characters and how it would work. I think i can’t ignore what went down backstage in term of the women’s writtings  so i cannot help but let it affect how I would see the manga as written by Hoshino be affected by it. But also perhaps if Hoshino had managed to keep her female main character, she could have gone more “fuck you” to her editors and manage to flesh her out to a point where half of what i’m worrying about wouldn’t even matter. 

If we divorce the story from the backstage stuff, perhaps there would be a complete different take to have - and it’s cool if people get to explore it. I am just... not the one placed for that.

I used to be good at transformative media, like headcanons and fics, and let those a little take over, but I got kinda insecure of my interpretations so i started to rely on canon a lot more. I already get insecure when I push my interpretations of canon too far. So something that really get me out of my comfort zone is not where you’d find the best answers about that, i’m sorry. 

But hey i hope this ask made sense? If not for the second half, at least for the half where I mention the backstages issues.

Take care!